


Half the World Away

by PerennialFall



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Bittersweet, Developing Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Pining, Romance, Romanticism, Slow Build, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerennialFall/pseuds/PerennialFall
Summary: ‘I'm afraid Castle Town has grown terribly dull in your absence.’He most definitely isn't counting down the days until the Resistance disbands. Or turning their conversations over in his head. Or waiting until the very last minute to contend with his feelings and establish some connection with her. But by the Goddesses, he won’t let distance get in the way of that![Completed]
Relationships: Ashei/Shad (Legend of Zelda), Link & Shad (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 32





	1. Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! :) The cover art of my story comes from the amazing **[kourvo](https://kourvo.tumblr.com/)** , who can be found on tumblr. There’s another little version of it which I’ll share at the end. Thank you so much for helping me bring these characters to life! Also, the title was inspired by the AURORA cover of that song. I hope you enjoy our little trip into the wild with this rarepair.

It's today.

Shad drags himself over to the basin and stares into the mirror for just a while longer. Pushing the fear away so that he could finally get some rest hadn't come cheap. Now, everything he wants to say is rushing around in his mind, and the second he pins one train of thought down, another takes its place. None of this would be happening if he'd simply taken Telma's advice in the beginning.

"You've gotta talk to her, honey. Before it's too late! Mark my words, the second our little group is no longer needed, she'll be long gone."

"I know that!" He sighed. "… My apologies, Telma, I didn't mean to be short with you. But what good would that do? I can hardly stand in the way of her dreams."

She shook her head at him from over the counter, her hands perched on her hips. "It's hardly a marriage proposal! At the very least, you should establish a means of contact. You might give her a reason to come back."

"Couldn't send my salutations through you, instead?" He smirked, facetious.

"Even if I agreed to be your little go-between, it'll be a one way channel with her on the road. My bar is staying right where it is. But who knows where she'll end up? Your safest bet is to ask her yourself."

He douses himself in water — so cold, he nearly flinches — hoping to tame the panic along with his raging hangover. He can scarcely believe that it's been a week since they stormed Hyrule Castle. The rush of excitement and celebrations that followed blurred the days together. Unfortunately, last night was his _final_ chance to get it out of the way.

The autumn air was crisp and cool, rushing around them in the castle courtyard. It pulled his head down a couple of notches from the wine. There she stood, away and removed from the hum of conversation. She had admirers, because _of course_ she did, but she'd kept to the fringes before her crude words could land her in hot water with Zelda's dignitaries. He pushed his way through.

He greeted her with something self-deprecating and she smiled back at him, amused. Her eyes were as discerning as ever, but he rather liked that about her. There was a chance to say something when the night ended and they made their way back into town. She didn't want him stumbling back alone, as decorated as he was. There was another chance to say something when they reached his door and a thin silence drew between them.

"So, where do you think you'll go after the City in the Sky?" she asked.

"I'm not so sure." He looked down to the pavement, embarrassed by his own lack of foresight. "There are other mysteries in this world, yet uncovered. I fear I might be here for the rest of time attempting to transcribe them!"

"Why transcribe them when you can visit them?"

He chuckled. His journals weren't going to publish themselves and he had a whole cohort of deniers to content with. "Perhaps one day."

"You're talented, yeah? You'll figure something out."

The words ghosted upon the tip of his tongue and then they eviscerated as she smiled. It was dark and difficult to see. But Goddesses, he would not forget that. He _could_ not forget that. She fell quiet and touched him on the side of the arm. The world grew still and not even the dog barking in the distance could have shattered the peace. 

Oh, but he had a job to do! Just as he thought he might take the hammer to his ego and end the encounter in the most artless way, she stepped back. Eyes lowered. Contemplative.

"Goodnight, Shad."

"Goodnight… Ashei."

He slams the front door on his way out, wincing as he fights to lock it. His keys jingle upon the pavement before he snatches them and stuffs them back into his pocket, no longer caring. He turns. And then he runs.

He dodges the people on the road, offering words of apology to those he manages to scuff. The western gate beckons to him in the distance, its cobbles bright beneath the overcast sky. This is it. He reaches the end of the city and looks out upon the gravel road. She's standing right there — next to Telma and Rusl _and_ Auru — her horse's reigns in her hand.

"Look after yourself, honey." Telma releases her from a hug that she barely leans into, though there's a blush on her face. 

"Ashei!" he shouts.

She looks up at him, incredulous.

He's panting now, every bit as nauseous as when he woke up.

"A-Apologies, I'm afraid I'm rather late. I came to ask if," he feels all four sets of eyes upon him and swallows before he continues, "if I might receive your details… in the interest of maintaining correspondence. Erm, directly."

There it was.

She raises an eyebrow. "You want to write to me?"

The others turn their attention back to Shad.

"Y-Yes," he stammers.

The sun is shuttered behind the clouds but it doesn't dull the brilliance of her armour or the sheen in her black hair. The morning slows as it captivates him.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." She smirks. He feels the life leave his body in tremors before she adds, "I'll be on the road for a while. So… give me yours, and I'll write to you, yeah? I can leave you with the details of wherever my next stop is."

"Oh." He breathes out slowly through his nostrils. "Oh! Of course!"

He whips out a notebook from his coat pocket and scrawls his address with haste. It seems ridiculous, but he waits a moment longer for the ink to dry before he hands it over. She folds it carefully and then tucks it into one of the saddlebags. He can't be sure that this is really happening, but for the heartbeat thudding in his ears.

"You won't be back for some time, eh?" Rusl winks. "Perhaps you ought to think about leaving on a more memorable note."

Telma levels a glare while Ashei scoffs loudly.

"Th-That won't be necessary-"

"I could make things more memorable if you'd like to get smacked down by someone half your age," she warns.

Rusl laughs. "It was only a suggestion. You'll be careful out there, won't you? Wouldn't be the first young warrior to bite off more than they could chew."

"I will." She nods to him, and then to Auru who beams back at them with pride. She turns to Shad and then smiles once again. "… See you."

"Take care, Ashei."

He's spent months dreading this day but there's a strange knot of elation mixed with the sadness as she rides away. Telma comforts him with a hand on his shoulder. She never was one for ceremony. That was just how she did things. Yet, he's certain she could have left much sooner if she desired. He smiles.

* * *

A week passes.

Shad barges into his apartment, bedraggled from the rain outside. There's a weight off his shoulders as he surrenders his books to the table. Their pages flutter until he swings around to wrestle the door closed. He slips a wedge carved into the shape of an Oocca beneath it to stop the rattling.

He smirks. Of course the storm came on the single afternoon he had to walk across town with his life’s work wrapped under his arm. He protected it as best he could, dodging the worst of the weather beneath shop fronts and awnings. It made it onto the desk of his publisher without a single drop. The same could not be said for him. All he had to do now was await the invoice.

Surely that alone would be a cause for celebration! But the apartment merely howls and shudders in response.

He can hardly complain. Life has shown no intention of ever slowing down, especially with Zelda back on the throne. 

Almost immediately after Ashei had left, he'd visited the City in the Sky as a favour from Link. Though, he quietly wondered if the chaos had gotten a bit _too_ much for the young man. Link was patient enough with his lack of physical skill and his hundreds of questions as they passed through the ruins… but a strange sadness took his eyes once they reached the highest, vine-covered plateau. It only worsened as they touched back down onto Hyrule.

A letter on the floor, blown over to the table by the wind, interrupts his thoughts. "Good heavens!"

He dusts it off to restore some reverence to the message, and turns the envelope in his hands, finding no address but his own on the back. His heart jolts. He can feel it in his hands as he pries it open and unfolds the paper inside. His eyes race down the page.

It's her. 

  
_Hey,_

_It's Ashei._

_Hope it won't surprise you to learn that I don't have any particular skill at writing letters. I'd ask what most people like to write about, except that you aren't like most people._

_How are things in Castle Town?_

_I admit, I don't envy you for the spotlight. It's probably for the best that_ _I'm out here where no one knows who I am. It's kinda nice, yeah? At the moment I'm in a region down the hill some way from Snowpeak. It's very dry and there aren't any taverns yet, but there are more than enough stables. I've been picking up mercenary work alongside the caravans. Funny, getting paid to head toward the same place._

_There's a small inn in the Tabantha hills. I aim to be there in two weeks. You should write the date on your letters, that way I can predict where I'll be when you write back._

_Here's the address._

She doesn't bother signing off. 

He laughs. 

Before he knows it, he's back at his desk, quill poised at the blank space on the page. There's a chill in his clothes from the residual damp. He drapes his jacket over the back of the chair and refuses to let it trouble him further. He must write now, while the excitement still lives within him! But… what to say? What _did_ most people write about? He's done nothing but travel and put ink to paper for the past decade, yet now he is stumped for words. He sighs. Admittedly, one unfamiliar with Ashei might have found the letter terse but he'd thought it charming in its own way.

He tries to mirror her candidness. 

_'I am most thankful to receive news of your exploits.'_

He cringes.

_~~'I'm afraid Castle Town has grown terribly dull in your absence.'~~ _

No, no. Far too candid. He crosses it out and starts again from scratch.

Halfway through, he lowers his quill. Should he have included that detail about his father? Ashei never spoke of her family and it struck him now as a morbid thing to add. Before he can finish this latest argument with himself, his mind latches onto something else. The City in the Sky! Why didn't he open with that? He's only waited his entire life to see it.

He smiles and then proceeds with merciful detail. She's listened to him ramble about the topic countless times at Telma's.

  
_Dear Ashei,_

_I am most thankful to receive news of your exploits._

_Life in Castle Town has been busy as ever. As luck would have it, I have just returned from my publisher in the eastern district. My latest work ought to be in full circulation by spring. Can you imagine? A simple fable, now substantiated, and brought into the fold of history. Father would be most proud!_

_The expedition itself went rather well._

_Link was most gracious to allow me the opportunity to travel to the Sky, knowing just how well I can handle a sword. That is to say, not at all. I must beg of you not to divulge the truth of my bow skills to him. A man can only have so many faults._

_Ah, but the City!_

_I don't believe I have the words to encapsulate what I saw up there. Tall, ancient buildings reaching up toward the sun, overgrown with vines and grasses from a time long passed. Rare and intelligent beings, fluent in a multitude of languages! With every day, another piece of it crumbles and falls away into oblivion. The thought alone fills me with dread! To know in my heart that one day, the heavens will be empty, and all we will have left are paper memories. Such is the flow of time._

_I wonder what marvels we might leave for the future, right here on Hyrulean soil?_

_Oh dear, it appears that I am running out of space. Do let me know how your travels pan out, won't you? Keep safe and well, Ashei._

_Respectfully yours,_

_Shad._

He signs it off with an exasperated chuckle.

Goddess knows, the letter is a mess, but he doesn't find himself particularly minding. Perhaps that was the beauty of her words! She simply wrote them as they came. His fingers rest over the same page she'd held some weeks ago. He decides to mail his first thing tomorrow, before he can fret the details. 


	2. Saying

Winter is fast approaching and Shad is less than enthused about it. The air is frigid and he sees his breath each morning in the room upstairs until the sun rises high enough to quell it. Thankfully, the ground floor is well equipped for such things. The scent of coffee from the kitchen imbues him with comfort and although the fire barely warms the room, he enjoys every hour of respite it offers from the rest of the town. 

He blows into his hands. And then, he finds himself remembering that it's her favourite season. Along with other useless details he’d never confess to knowing — like the way she takes her liquor on ice, or the fact that she always keeps a whetstone in her pocket, or how she stands at the war table because she prefers to think on her feet in a very literal sense. Goddesses, there were numerous quirks about her that might have gone undetected but for his watchful eye… though, he had to remind himself that this was a person, and not in fact a puzzle or an ancient artefact. 

There's a knock on the door before a bundle of letters drops through.

He nearly trips out of his chair to search them. There’s a fancy-looking one he suspects might be from Hyrule Castle until it asks him to deposit a hundred rupees into a confidential account. Another questions his ‘adequacy’ through a colourful array of euphemisms, before directing him to some backstreet clinic. He blushes angrily and throws it into the fire. He shuffles through the rest until he settles upon a single white envelope, rigid to the touch from the elements.

Yes, this was it.

Something falls from the opened letter onto his lap. A separate sheet of paper! He knows he shouldn’t open it first, that the rest of the letter will provide some much-needed context, but his curiosity wins over and he unfolds the page to reveal a drawing. Strokes of charcoal layer together to reveal rolling slopes, surrounded by a greater mountain range. The trees are sparse but there's shaded detail in the rocky outcrops. His eyes flit over the wheat fields she once traversed, searching for the yellow in their ears. 

He has no words.

  
_Hey again,_

_Guess my first letter didn't put you off, unless you're being too polite to say anything about it._

_It sounds like all your hard work is starting to pay off. I'm glad. Especially if it's half as wild as you describe. Remind Link to keep on top of his training for me, yeah? They could really use someone like him in these parts. Don't see many scholars kicking around but I'd be lying if I said the motivation there wasn't totally selfish._

_We made it through the hills without any issues. Trade up here is slow. The further we travel from Hyrule's borders, the greater the risk from monsters and bandits. Haven't seen many of either, though I'm ready for anything._

_Here's a sketch of my view from the inn. You can't tell from the picture but the grass is yellow and dry. It feels almost like the desert, except it's way colder than that. A thick frost covers the ground in the morning and at sundown you can hear the coyotes in the mountains._

_I plan on heading to the gorge further north but I'll be back at the inn in a few weeks. Feel free to send any mail here. Keep the picture too, if you like. Or don’t._

He lowers the letter a moment and frowns. Gods, when was the last time he saw the old boy kicking around town? Not recently, that was for sure. But. Wait. His eyes lock back onto the page. Was that a… flirtatious remark? Had she just insinuated that she’d wanted him there for something other than his scholarly expertise? Oh, good heavens. Yes. This was all entirely worth it.

He sits upon the counter and presses his knuckles against his lips, agonising over his reply. It doesn’t take long before he pauses again to consider his words. One in particular seems to be leaping out at him from the page and threatening to coat his hands and his desk in a torrent of ink. 

‘Friends.’

Of course they were friends. They'd sat together at the war table for weeks on end, devising strategies from their opposing worlds of knowledge. But if things were to ever progress, then… shouldn’t they carry some intimate knowledge of each other? Certainly, he knew of her snowy hometown. He knew of her years spent refining the arts of war under her father's tutelage. But what was the driving force behind that unyielding focus? That anger? Her feelings were as foreign to him as ever. 

His longing forms into a hollow in his throat. Would he be sending the wrong message by labelling their connection for what it was? Or was he over-thinking things again? He refrains from editing and strives for boldness, instead.

  
_Dear Ashei,_

_I shudder to think of what might become of any beast or man who should cross you. In so doing, I pray that such violence will never come to be. Purely for their sake! Please do forgive my jokes if they are in poor taste._

_I must also confess that I haven't seen Link in some time. Not since our expedition, in fact. Would it be pedantic of me to worry for him, too? Friends have been a rare commodity in such times, and the ones I have, I treasure most dearly._

_Would it flatter you to know that your sketches are beautiful? I shouldn't be surprised, given the astute mind that created this. However, I'd very much like to see more, if you ever feel so inclined. These lands are unfamiliar to me and every new detail brings a spark into my otherwise quiet apartment._

_May I ask of your feelings of home? You're well enough acquainted with Castle Town and I can hardly blame you for leaving it behind. Though, we ought to have something to entice you back, yes? I shall convene with Telma on this matter at once._

_I wish you luck on your journey north._

_Respectfully yours,_

_Shad._

Sufficiently bold, yes? Only time will tell. He drips wax over the seal and encloses a dried sprig from one of the flowers on his writing desk. It's a whisper of a touch compared to her sketch but he hopes it will do for now.

He dusts himself off one last time before he's out the door with the letter tucked into his pocket. There's a bounce in his step as he considers the prospect of facing his dissenters at the college. Admittedly, there have been less of them since Princess Zelda extended her patronage to his studies. He imagines the way she might scoff and laugh upon learning this. 

* * *

He's getting the hang of writing off the cuff. It’s slower than his natural manner of planning and sculpting the most acceptable response, and at times it feels like ambling up a mountain with bags while his glasses keep sliding down his nose. Yet for her, it seems effortless to the point of unfair. 

She says the gorge is like a jagged scar upon the earth, and just as her eyes think it might end, it crumbles down even deeper. The rocks change colour in bands — from dry yellow to rusted red, broken apart by strips of black and grey. He pictures the twilight sun as it casts its bleary haze over the tundra. He wonders how it must actually feel to stand there alone, before a limitless chasm. But on that point, he can only extrapolate.

He pins the latest sketch up in his study at once. Her memories come to him in shades of grey but he recognises their beauty. 

_'_ _There's not much to say about home…'_ she writes. _'It wasn't easy. Then again, I don't know anyone whose life really is. This response might not be as enlightening as you imagined. Sorry to disappoint.'_

He frowns.

 _'I must confess that my life here has not always been a bed_ _of roses, which in turn led me to wonder what it must have been like for you. We're of vastly different backgrounds, are we not? And I do not mean this in a classist, urbanite sense. My apologies if this isn't coming across as intended. I simply wished to learn of what made you into the person you are today.'_

His next reply comes with its own pressed flower, a daub of violet against the yellowing paper. He wonders if she has books of her own to read on her travels. 

_'Unpleasant, huh? I probably shouldn't ask. I hope that's over with. You seemed enthusiastic enough when we met. When you went on with your sky creature theories, it felt like someone pulled the sun into the room. Intense. What kind of person do you think I am?'_

His pauses are less frequent now, but it doesn't mean he's immune to the embarrassment of having to answer for himself. How should he reply to that? He could write for days about her unflinching grit in the face of catastrophe. Her cool and cutting words, which made for some of his favourite conversations. Her quiet rebellion against all things traditional, all things given, in Hylian society.

He hadn't even touched upon her beauty yet. Oh! Goddesses.

She was pale and caliginous and utterly frightening in the best of ways, but calling attention to this seemed akin to playing with knives. Perhaps even fire. His eyes never strayed below her neckline but he was more than aware of the curves of her body. Alright, there was no point in lying to himself. His gaze might have lingered upon her waist on _one_ occasion, as she turned around to fetch something. By the time he’d realised what he was doing, he coughed and sent his chair scraping against the floor from the sudden movement. He prayed to Din that nobody had noticed and continued their meeting without a single hiccup, the very picture of professionalism.  
  
He also delighted in the smile that crossed her lips whenever she frightened the guards. They were right to be afraid. He'd seen her brawling with one of their captains in the streets for daring to whistle at her as she passed. Her laughter rang out as the fool tasted the pavement, snapping a tooth in front of his subordinates before they scattered. He winces at the memory. And on that note, he decides to play it safe.

It seems vague but all he can muster is; _'I find you to be brilliant. Borderline indestructible. If calamity were to shake this world once more, I would feel most safe at the back of your sword! You have a marvellous spirit, Ashei. One without equal. I suppose you must find this completely nonsensical, in which case you are more than welcome to laugh.'_

She smirks.

 _'In that case, I think you're hilarious.'_ There's an indentation upon the page where a scribble might have been on another page. The thought of her brooding over her words forces him into a blush. _'Will you send me a copy of your book?'_

He glows and wraps it carefully several days later. It's his first copy, released to him ahead of publication. He sneaks a bookmark into the page that has her name written on it, along with the rest of the Resistance, thanking them for their work in liberating Hyrule and supporting his dreams. At the very end of the spiel there's a special dedication to Link, without whom the work would not be possible. Goddesses, it's been a good while since he's heard that name! The streets still gossiped of the man dubbed the 'Hero of Light,' but rarely did anyone ask of Link himself.

Anxiety grips him by the shoulders.

Should he say something to Ashei? Alert her to the disappearance of their most prodigious friend and have her on the lookout during her travels? Ah, but perhaps Telma has news. He's confident she must know something; she's often ahead of the newspapers. He is also _extremely_ confident in Link’s abilities. Only he could walk into their bar, singed head to toe from a dragon, and ask them all quietly for a glass of water. An act that had sent him into near stitches!

He stays his hand and decides to wait. Link always had that tendency to disappear. Being his friend simply meant keeping the faith.

 _‘If my ‘sky creature theories’ can hold a candle to a winter’s night, then I hope they might keep you warm. They belong to you,_ _and to Link, and to all the people of Hyrule… whether they be here or half the world away.’_


	3. Dreaming

The weeks flicker by and winter begins to gnaw through Shad’s clothes.  
  
He trudges back into his apartment to escape it, his cheeks reddened from the sunless streets. It’s far quieter in the kitchen. The air is buzzing, alight with the remnants of his wine, though it's little consolation for Telma's words… or for the loneliness that tugged at his chest whenever he gazed upon the table where _they_ once sat together. He strikes a flint into the fireplace and sits quietly upon the lounge. But not before he grabs another bottle off the desk.  
  
“There’s no word? Nothing at all, on Link?” he’d asked over the bar, his voice inflecting with panic. 

“I was just going to ask you about that, honey.” Telma frowns. “Didn't the two of you travel together before he up and left?”

He stared down at the counter, unable to finish his drink. So, it was true. Link had pulled a number on them and vanished without a trace. At the very least, without ensnaring himself on any of the gossiping tongues around town — an impressive feat in itself. 

“Indeed! It was Link who escorted me all the way through the Sky! But I never got the sense that anything was… well, that there was any cause for alarm. He did grow rather quiet at the end of the tour.”

“The princess is running a search. Paying for information, if anyone's got it.” Telma scanned the room and then lowered her voice, despite the dwindling number of patrons. “And I’ve gotta say, anything coming from our organisation would be a whole lot more believable than some of the other stories going around. Are you sure there's nothing else you could add, honey?”

“… No.” His thoughts clouded over just as the bar began to slip out of focus. He feared he might be delirious, but the twisting in his stomach alerted him to the possibility of too much drink instead. “No, I’m afraid there isn't.”  
  
“That’s a shame. But don’t forget, you might have another source of information. Yeah?” She winked at him shamelessly. “Hmm, did I say that right?” 

His chair leaves him and the interior of the tavern dissolves into the cold, damp street outside, followed by his living room wall. There’s little comfort to be found here this evening. His bottle runs empty after some time, and before he knows it, he’s up and pacing circles again. Gods! He pauses mid-step when he finally notices something new over there by the door. 

It’s another letter. 

A strange euphoria threatens to burst out of him until doubt wins over and walls it back. Had it been there all afternoon? He was certain he’d investigated the mail drop after work. Perhaps he hadn’t looked very hard at all, being familiar with the delay in their correspondence and not expecting a reply for some days. Even so… he can’t help hoping it’s from her. The letter seems weathered enough. But when he lifts it, he finds an address from Ordon Village on the back. 

He lets out a sigh and then laughs to himself, shakily. Might this, in fact, be the end to the world’s shortest mystery? His heart sinks as his eyes trail down the page. 

  
_Dear Shad,_

_My name is Ilia. We met in Kakariko Village earlier this year, if you remember?_

_I'm glad to hear that you're doing well after solving that big sky mystery. My memory was a bit shaky when we first met, but I know how important it was to you._

_I hope you don't mind, but Telma put me in contact with you so that I may ask you about Link. I wanted to ask whether you'd seen him around since he left Ordon Village. I don't want to jump to conclusions but he seemed desperate to get away, and I barely got to say goodbye._

_Please, will you write to me if you hear anything? I need to know if he's alright._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Ilia._

He remembers a girl. A small wisp of a creature, with feathery hair, who’s smile could light a room. Her eyes were reminiscent of a forest glade — or the hero's tunic. Yes, the very same one that he’d laughed with Ashei at all those months ago! It would be obvious to admit that they hadn’t met under the best circumstances. Even so, he couldn’t steer his curiosity away from her interactions with Link in the Sanctuary.

The hero’s smile never once faltered. He appeared content, for the time being, that Ilia was no longer in harm's way; that nothing else could befall her alongside Renado and the Goron elders. But Link’s eyes told him another story. They were shying, withholding, and ridden with remorse. It was a ghost of a feeling, a hurt that echoed far deeper than the lines of insomnia etched into his face. He’d only known Ilia for a mere matter of hours, and it seemed a terrible injustice that she’d learned more of him in that time than she might ever remember of the grieving man before her. 

He can’t help but curse the Goddesses now for leaving her behind — for leaving her to chase after Link’s memory all these months later. His mind burns with all of the questions he might have for the hero, but he pushes them aside, tearing through his belongings for a blank sheet of paper instead. He isn't expecting his reply to synchronise with hers but the longer he tarries, the further Link might slip from their grasp. 

Time is of the essence. 

  
_Dear Ashei,_

_I find myself unsure of how to frame this most troubling development._

_It appears that Link, the dear old boy, has gone missing. I understand that this isn't exactly the sort of news one would like to receive, or expect to be given out of the blue… yet we find ourselves reeling from the loss._

_Would you be most gracious and inform either Telma or myself with anything you might find on your travels? I also hear that Princess Zelda is interested in receiving a statement. Given the situation, I cannot blame her for offering that gargantuan sum of a reward, though all we have at this moment are spurious rumours. At the very least, I am confident that Hyrule will not stop until he’s found!_

_I must thank you in advance for your cooperation. And may the Goddesses keep you, ever and always._

_Yours most gratefully,_

_Shad._ _  
_

_  
_ He retires his quill and sits there a moment longer, ruminating over his words. He wonders how she might find them. Would she wear the issue quietly like another battle scar? Or would she snap, as she so rarely did, when faced with something she did not understand?

“People don't leave these parts without good reason.”

He can almost hear her voice now. It’s languid and detached and far more soothing than her rough exterior might ever suggest. He freezes in place, ensnared by the sound of it. 

“Did something happen on your journey?”

Ashei cocks her head at him from across the room, the outline of her perched inextricably within one of his chairs. He blinks and loses his focus, until his eyes are drawn in by the firelight dancing over her gauntlets. Before he knows it, he’s taken too long to reply. She frowns back with mounting suspicion. It’s in her nature to stand up now, to stride over to him and press him harder for the answers she needs. How could anyone meet that evaluative stare and lie? He, of all people, is the least equipped for it. 

Shad lowers his gaze and spares her the effort. 

“He… took me all the way to the highest point,” he begins hoarsely. “To an empty island that sailed high above the rest of the city. We stood in the field where the dragon was slain. And then suddenly, he stopped.” 

“Why?”

He breathes deeply, holding the details even closer to his heart. He remembers the blistering second Link’s eyes clouded over and their momentous day came to a standstill. There was nothing simple about the pause. Something inside of him had broken apart and fractured, seemingly beyond repair. He had begun to witness a side of Link that no one had ever seen. 

“You must understand, the old boy _trusted_ me with his feelings.” He swallows. “He had said to me that he was once… bound for a place beyond Hyrule. That he was to leave the Sky and go somewhere even further beyond our reach, and that he might not have returned. That was when he knew.” 

Her ghost meets his confession with silence.

“He loved her more than life itself.”

“Love?” Ashei never anticipated this answer, and he hears the surprise in her tone. “Link wasn't acting alone then.”

“No. It appears he wasn’t.”  
  
There’s another moment of silence before she speaks again.

“What kind of man says something like that and then vanishes into thin air?” she snaps. “Better yet, I wonder who was involved. Maybe that's the real question, yeah? Someone with a vested interest in whatever was happening to Hyrule.”

His voice is growing thinner, and he can’t help but notice how cold the air feels inside of him now. “He didn’t say. And I did not dare to ask.”

Ashei glares and rolls her eyes. It’s callous and it throws him off for a second, but her derision masks her concern. He knows this. 

“I'll search the world for him,” she says without a hint of malice in her voice. “You know I will. But I also can't help but feel like it's none of our business. What am I meant to say when I find him, hmm? I'm not exactly an expert at comforting love-sick fools.”

“I-I'm not so sure.”

Was she always this icy? He isn't entirely sure of that either. Countless men have been sliced by that razor tongue, though she's managed to spare him at every instance. But she does raise a fair point. Link was a perfectly capable young adult and his feelings were _his_ business alone. How could they console someone who perhaps, did not want to be found? How could they begin to hope that they might mend his heart, when he'd hidden it so well from them all this time?

“Will you end up the same?”

He finds a gleam in her eyes that doesn’t quite match the line of her mouth. They begin to spill over with something darker and thicker than wine, leaving streaks of jet black all the way down her face. He’s seen this colour before, in the shape of letters and words and her hair in the night. Her features are as hard as ever — sharpening until they might crack, like the branches of frost spreading over his windowsill. The fire roars in the background but it does nothing to warm him. Just as he thinks he might recoil, he blinks, and there’s not a spot of ink to be found on her. 

She is pale like the snow. 

“P-Pardon?”

“It's a simple question, really.”

She rises from his reading chair and brings the interrogation over to him, shielding the light with her body when she stops. Her steel fingers find their way to his cheek and she bends down, leaning in close, her sweet breath glancing upon his chin. His own shudders out in tendrils of grey. He feels like a flame being starved of oxygen. It’s strange… But he doesn’t fight it. 

“Will you end up the same as him, if you can't have me?”

Before he can reply, she brushes against his lips. And he wakes with a start. 

His heart is pulsing in his throat and it feels like he's submerged in ice, until he realises it’s only a breeze flowing in through the gaps of his windowsill. He props himself up from the desk and his eyes begin to roam. They climb over his furniture in the cold morning light, searching the darkened fireplace for the remnants of his nightmare. The chair opposite him sits empty. As does the bottle of wine on the floor. Not a thing is out of place. 

He exhales and turns his attention to the paper on his desk. Nayru, fetch him his coat! He hadn't dreamt the part about the letter at all. Link was still out there, missing! He aims to hurry on out — to rush into the streets without dallying with the shower or razor until his letter is posted — before he’s interrupted by the single envelope that drops in through the mail slot. There’s a moment of disbelief, followed by quiet laughter. 

She isn't at all how he imagined.

  
_Hey,_

_Your book arrived in one piece. Funny, huh? I was expecting something weird to happen, like a heist for valuables in the mail. Maybe the stories of this town are getting to me._

_Anyway, I haven't read it yet, but I'll let you know what I think. It smells nice._

_How's everything back home? Don't know if you've noticed, but you rarely write to me about Castle Town. I bet you’re busy enough with the big hats scrambling around your account of the Oocca. Sounds like they aren't sure whether to ingratiate themselves with you or come back with something preposterous yet. I hope it's the second option._

_I'll be glad to see the end of this place. I’m in a growing settlement they call Akkala. The people here like staring at my armour, so I make sure not to order anything too fancy at the tavern. It’s dangerous, even for me._

_Look after yourself, yeah? And say hi to Telma for me when you see her. Tell her, I’m sorry her best customer’s out of town._

He sighs. His own letter now seems so grim in comparison, though it doesn’t sound like Akkala is an especially lovely place to visit. However, she seems more than capable of pulling laughter out of the dark. He quickly tears his reply out of its envelope and presses it against the nearest surface, scrawling along the bottom. He wears a smile that contradicts the knot in his stomach.

_‘PS: I really am glad to hear that my book has survived its journey._

__

__

_It might also make for a decent shield if you should ever find yourself in a spot in that horrid town. We could exchange further notes on this matter if it pleases you. And we must find Link so that we may hear his opinion, being the shield man and all!’  
_

* * *

The evening of his book launch draws an enthusiastic crowd at Telma’s some days later. 

He’s relieved that the establishment isn’t completely overrun, though he wonders how the general public might react when they learn of Zelda’s astounding interest in the subject. Telma is quick to welcome the extra business. He notices the little extra time it takes for her to move about the bar and smiles at her fondly. The revellers had dropped off in recent weeks, almost certainly due to the rumour that the Hero of Light was missing, and therefore unable to be spotted at their old haunt. 

Sitting down and signing copies of his work feels like an out-of-body experience. He wants to laugh and then cry in the most ugly fashion in a quiet corner of the tavern. He knows he really should stop fiddling with his necktie and pushing his glasses along the bridge of his nose… but he cannot help himself. It’s all totally incomprehensible! Loneliness had always been an inherent part of his studies, and yet here he was now, sending neatly packed slivers of his labour out into the world.

Auru drops by for a couple of rounds, and he and Telma share gossip over the counter while the line whittles down. It’s hard not to think about Ashei at a time like this. Crowds were never her thing, but he can see her watching the development from afar, sloshing the ice around in her glass. 

Telma rubs his shoulder at the end of the night. “How are you holding up, honey?”

He’s surprised by the motherly concern in her words.

“Quite alright.” He chuckles. “No one… nefarious was in attendance, and only two people left when I assured them that Link would not be here. It is all far more than I might have dreamed of a year ago!” 

She laughs. “I’m glad to hear it. Tonight’s all about you, after all! It’s a shame Rusl couldn’t make it but that man’s spent long enough away from his kids and that lovely wife of his. Oh, but they’re coming by in the spring! You should tell him all about it then.”

Auru turns in his chair and flashes an odd smirk. He knows he’s in for it now. “Forgive my meddling curiosity, but might you have news of our Ashei?”

He smirks right back. “Last I heard, she was kicking it with some ruffians in the north,” he says before looking to Telma. “She’s asked me to apologise for your best customer being out of town. Oh, and I’ve asked her to keep a lookout for the old boy.”  
  
“… It’s a shame she isn’t here.” Telma sighs and shakes her head. “At this rate, her and that beast of a man are gonna go running off the edge of the map! Is Hyrule too boring for them now that all the monsters are gone?”

“I sent her an early copy of the book. My first, to be precise.” He blushes. “I might also have one waiting for Link, if he should ever show himself.”

Telma beams back at him but Auru only wears a grim expression. He says nothing else. Shad knows that look. It’s his classic, ‘I’ve lived long enough to know where this ends,’ look. He supposes Telma recognises it as well, for she immediately launches into her favourite stories of Link and Ashei on their respective jobs. Both had sounded nothing short of indestructible, like fables from a book, rather than the people he knew. For a fleeting moment it had made him want to leave town altogether… his book, a parting gift. 

He swings on home with a thrill in his veins. There’s not a soul to be found on the streets and part of him longs to lose himself in them, but the chill nudges him indoors.

He’s quick to find another letter on the floor.

He shrugs off his coat, prepares a tea, and then sits himself down at his desk. He’s reluctant to trust the envelope, until he opens it to the very welcome sight of her handwriting and a small collection of grey and white feathers. 

A crinkled sheet of paper unfolds to reveal a sketch of terraced hillsides, stretching away as far as the eye can see. The tiers at the top shine bright like the sky before they tumble down into shaded riverbeds. Dotting the scene are a smattering of dark shapes; birds, amphibians and some type of horned cow, much larger than any Ordonian goat he's ever seen. Goddesses, it’s all perfectly wild. He can almost hear the wind stirring in the grass and the creaking of insects at twilight. 

  
_Hey, Shad,_

_Sorry it took so long. I got into a row with the previous innkeeper. He kept asking me if I knew the so-called 'Hero of Light,' or whatever. Knew there was a reason I didn't like him. Creep. If you’ve sent anything to Akkala, I won’t be getting it now._

_It’s been a while since I sketched anything but here’s my view. It's hard to describe but the hills are both water and grass, cut by the locals for their rice crops. You can’t take two steps without running into animals. Herons, ducks, water buffaloes. The frost doesn't touch anything this way, so they’re all thriving out here and leaving feathers around. Feel free to keep any of this, too._ _  
_ _  
_ _I ran into a pack of_ _~~idiots~~_ _inexperienced travellers heading to the east coast, so I think I'll tag along with them for a bit. Keep them safe. We’re only staying in this valley for one more night, so I'll let you know when we get to the next inn._

_Enjoy winter. Stay warm._

_PS: You should be proud of your book. Better talk about it in person, or I'll end up writing you one in the mail._

Blast it!  
  
He’s never been one for violence, but his mind snaps to the image of himself causing a ruckus in that awful establishment and taking the innkeeper down a peg with something _other_ than words. A terrible feeling, to be sure. And perhaps a fantasy, for it doesn’t take long until he sees Ashei diving over the counter to avenge him. He’s over the moon that she might’ve glanced over his book! But still, he groans.

It feels wrong that she should send him so many treasures in the mail and receive nothing in return. His guilt sits heavier upon the realisation that _he'd_ outed her celebrity status to the innkeeper. He would never have guessed that another set of eyes might eavesdrop on their conversations. He smirks, and imagines another preposterous scenario of him pouring all of his longing into that letter. It most assuredly would’ve nauseated their spy and wound up in the bin. But if she’d seen it, how could he ever face her again?

Ah. And there was Link. Even now, Ashei hadn’t an inkling of what had happened and she was still the closest thing he had to a lead. He nurses his head and pushes his worry down to a breathable level. Short of grabbing a horse from the stables and charging out into the fields tonight, he can do nothing but wait until she arrives at her new address. In the meantime… well, he will simply have to manage. And pray.

He rifles through his belongings to find a suitable frame for the feathers, yearning for wings of his own.


	4. Running

It doesn’t take long for Shad to notice the same people gathered at his window again. He chuckles and offers an apologetic wave, before he closes the curtains and they disperse.  
  
He knows he ought to be happy.

His critics were struck silent, left to retreat within their own fringes of the academic world. And the college had been quick to offer tenure so he might serve as their authority on the Sky. However, the most unexpected result by far was the book’s street popularity. Though he’d offered his readers little in the way of adventure — having written fastidiously on the culture, language and architecture that belonged to the Oocca — it became a best-seller on the basis of Link’s involvement alone. And good heavens, did the old boy have some fans.

On the first few mornings, he’d been quick to brew some tea and chat with these visitors, only to learn that many did not share his passion for history. He’d found it more humorous than disappointing, perhaps due to his own oversight. Such a reaction was to be expected! People were drawn to heroic deeds and not so much the grammatical forms of a dying language. Even so, if he could grab the interest of any one person in this town, then the work was not for nothing. It seemed that Zelda was a strong contender in that regard.  
  
But he feels the days falling away, like a ream of pages scattered to the wind. 

Life is almost as busy as what it was after Link and the Resistance won back Hyrule Castle. There’s a lack of wine this time around, but he remembers every circle and gutter of Castle Town in total upheaval. His own network hadn’t been spared. Rusl had been very anxious for the medal ceremony to end, for Uli was due any day now. Telma was preparing her business for a short close following the slew of celebrations. And Auru’s usual spot at the bar sat empty while he assisted with the matter of Zelda’s fallen soldiers. Ashei had been the only constant.  
  
He smiles, thinking back to the very first week of their new lives. His eyes are lost somewhere between the fields of wheat and rice paddies pinned around his desk. 

“What’s with you?” 

He looked up to find her tilting her head at him, some paces away at the bar. Up until now, he’d been sitting alone, shuttered away from the noise of the town. Her armoured hand drummed once against the counter.

“You seem more in your head than usual,” Ashei continued impatiently, “and that’s saying something.”

He smirked. Upon closer inspection, he noticed her hair slipping out of her barrette, and the defensive glare of a cat that had narrowly escaped a bath in her expression. He laughed and then cut himself off before it would get him into trouble. “I might ask you the same question! Engaging in fisticuffs again, are we?”

She scowled and leaned back against the bar, loosening her stance. “I met Telma’s dressmaker. I’ve got reason enough to wish this was over. What’s your excuse for being walled up in here?”

“Oh.” She was concerned, he realised. “It is nothing serious, Ashei.”

“You worried?”  
  
“I might be.” Goddesses, she didn’t waste any time. “Our lives will never be the same after today, will they? I know it’s for the best, but I can’t help feeling that-” Her forehead creased as she pulled herself away from the bar. He could only guess what look she might’ve worn once his eyes shot down to the table. “Nevermind,” he amended. “Forget I said anything.”  
  
“Shad. Look at me.”

He blushed and immediately obeyed. He loved hearing his name in that smoky voice, even if it usually prefaced some terrible news at their war table.

“You’re gonna be alright.” Her words were softer than usual, and he was shocked to discover a gentleness to her features — one he’d scarcely glimpsed up to this point. Was that a smile? Gods, he wondered if he might be lucky enough to see it again before she left. “This is the easy part for you, yeah? You’ve spent your whole life working and now you’re reaping the rewards. Enjoy it. You’re already home.”

Of course. He pricked with shame upon the realisation that she’d been fighting for a city that wasn’t hers, and he was the one being a recluse.  
  
“And no one’s forcing you to change what you’re wearing,” she added wryly.

He summoned his courage and smiled back at her. He wasn’t above deflection. “While we’re on the topic, I think a dress might very well suit you for the night. You’ll enjoy that, won’t you?”

She snorted loudly and turned herself away. Anyone else might’ve found themselves on the other end of a broken chair, something that they were both acutely aware of, but he couldn’t deny that there was a thrill in pushing the boundaries between them. Still, he didn’t want to make it a habit. 

“I’ll see you later,” she snapped. It was almost a threat, if not for the next thing she said. “And maybe _you_ can.”

A letter flies in through the door during breakfast and a giddiness, tapered by urgency, flutters into his chest. He quickly lowers his expectations. 

Yes, it might be her. As much as it might be another back-alley scam aiming to lighten his wallet. Nevertheless, his curiosity wins over and he leaves halfway through a plate of buttered pancakes to investigate, carrying his teacup along with him. The sender’s side of the envelope is blank and the paper is stiff to the touch. Oh, yes. It’s undoubtedly her. He opens the letter and gambles on taking a sip from his cup.

 _‘You’ll never guess who I ran into…’_ _  
  
_The cup shatters onto the ground. 

_‘Link.’_

Link! His butterflies are drowned in a surge of panic. By some staggering chance, by some sheer dumb luck, Ashei had found him on the road! His heart pounds in the palms of his hands, his fingers trembling as he struggles to hold the letter. Telma needed to hear this. _Ilia_ needed to hear this! His eyes scan down the rest of the page, searching furiously for answers. Please, Goddesses, don’t let there be bad news. He can hardly ask her to hold him down now.

_‘I should probably lay off the details, but he wasn't doing so well. We talked forever in some smelly old tavern. It was… awkward. I sent him home, where I'm hoping someone can take care of the rest. He mentioned a couple of names. You'll help out too, won't you? Don't make a big deal of it, just check in. He could use friends and I’m in no position to help anyone just yet._

_If I got through to him, he might be there around the time this letter arrives. Check Telma’s. If not, let me know and_ _I will find_ _him_ _. Oh, and here’s my latest address. I’ll be here for a while, so feel free to send some more mail my way. The water out here is really something. If I could, I’d let you see through my eyes.’_

If only she could.  
  
He jolts back to reality with a shuddering breath.  
  
The old boy’s alive! He’s alright — if such a term could ever be used to describe him — and he’s due to arrive in town at any given moment! That the world might shift so much upon the delivery of a single letter is nearly laughable. It’s _incredible._ The fact that Ashei had no idea what any of this meant in their corner of the world made it all the more absurd. He isn’t ungrateful for the news, not by any means, but he soon realises that he’s been burdened with the most important letter in all of Hyrule.  
  
He rummages around his desk for a quill, dips it into the inkwell and scratches upon some paper. He is rather late to reply but he’s certain the news will be well received. His brow bends as he fans the page, hissing for it to hurry and dry. He then folds it up and slips it into an envelope. It seems risky to send it off without checking Telma’s first, but he’s got a good feeling about this. Ashei was oddly persuasive.

* * *

He sprints down the street, weaving between pedestrians. He shoots the letter into a postbox. He takes the road down to the southern markets and then turns into the nearby alley. The stairs nearly trip him before the tavern door swings open, and he freezes in place. His eyes widen behind his gold-rimmed glasses. It's darkest here in the mornings but he searches the gloom for that same, familiar green he once ridiculed.

“Oh! There you are, honey,” Telma says a little too formally.

There’s a figure seated at the front of the house. A male, he discerns, cloaked in a dark hood that he hasn’t bothered to remove indoors. There’s a peak of colour beneath the odd slips of fabric, though it’s too difficult to see from a distance. The stranger turns his head and a curtain of blonde hair sweeps down from the back of his neck. His eyes are a haunting shade of blue, set into a youthful face with more shadows and scars than he last remembered. There he is.  
  
He feels the world around him slowing again. The only movement comes from his own footsteps towards the bar. 

“Link, old boy?”

“… Hey, Shad.” Link does his best to smile. He can’t help but notice that it doesn’t reach the rest of his face. “I just heard about your book. Um, congratulations.”

“O-Oh, uh!” He fumbles on the spot and quickly nods. “You are most kind, as always. You must have had quite the journey, yes?”

Link gives a half-shrug. The blade in his eyes finally lowers. “It’s good to be back.”

“It is good to _have_ you back.”

“Hyrule doesn’t need rescuing again, does it?”

He laughs a little too loudly and then props himself into the seat next to him. “Ah, always one for the heroics! I am sorry to disappoint but we’ve been managing just fine. Princess Zelda has steered us towards a flawless recovery. However, I do believe that there’s a rather large gap in the shape of you around these parts.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Link’s tone is innocuous but the words still sting. He flinches back in response. “Sorry, Shad. I’m just tired from the journey in.”

“I’ve got that covered.” Telma ducks over to the bar and reaches under the counter. She uses a knife to pop something open and then brandishes a bottle of red potion. She smiles at Link, and runs a jewelled hand down her cat’s coat. “There’s breakfast on the way if you’re happy to wait. Should give you handsome boys plenty of time to catch up!”  
  
Link nods quietly and takes a sip. Before Shad can open his mouth to thank her, she throws a _very_ stern look at him from the walkway. He knows what it means. ‘Don’t you dare blow this, honey!’

“I suppose your travels have taken you all over the continent,” he says, fiddling with his sleeve under the table. “You must have seen a great many things, yes?”

Link nods again.

“And, uh, met a great many people?”

“Here and there,” Link responds after a swig of potion. His gaze hits Shad from the side. Goddesses, it’s so unreadable. 

“I see.”

He stifles a sigh.

Truly, if this was Ashei’s doing, then it was a miracle she managed to talk to him at all. How in the blazes had she gotten through to Link without knocking some sense into him or needling him for answers? She wasn’t exactly known for her patience. But then, he remembers the gentleness that lay hidden behind her brutal candour. Her words were often harsh. But behind them, she was immovably calm, no matter how out of her element she later confessed herself to be. That was also the beauty of her.

His breath leaves him in a great huff and he turns the full extent of his body towards Link. He isn’t nearly as in control — but by the gods, he’s going to try. The hero blinks back at him, unsure of what he’s in for. 

“I shall be frank with you. We were all worried sick.”

Link frowns and shakes his head. “Look, I didn’t want-”

“Please, allow me to finish!” he implores. “Whatever your intentions were, you’ve left behind the people who care for you. Ilia wrote to me, you see, desperate for information. Rusl is raising his family while missing his eldest son! And as I understand it, Zelda faces the unenviable job of rebuilding this country and combing its ashes for you." He reaches out for Link's shoulder, holding him in place. He doesn’t push him away. "You've left them all in the dark. Do you have even the vaguest notion of how that might feel?”  
  
“Shad-”  
  
“Great Goddesses, Link!” The heat rises to his face at once. “We love you! We do. If I had never met you, then I’m certain I would never have found the Oocca! And Hyrule would still be under the tyranny of that beast in the castle! Don’t you see? It’s our turn to be here _for you._ Unreservedly.”  
  
Link’s attention startles away. He’s unable to form any words and his eyes are wider than ever, holding his emotions in like a dam. Shad releases his shoulder and clears his throat, suddenly embarrassed. “So, if you should need anything, old boy, I am at your service.”  
  
There’s a thick silence in which neither of them moves, before Link speaks again.  
  
“You say the things that Ashei means.” He laughs bitterly and turns to face him head-on. “And you might not believe me, but I _know_ how it feels to be left behind. That’s why I couldn’t stand it here. Everything was a reminder of what happened, and with the world moving so fast, it was… too much. I couldn’t keep up. I know this sounds stupid coming from someone who fought a dragon. But… I couldn’t stay. I wanted to be free of it.”  
  
“Did you happen to find what you were looking for?” he asks, genuinely, still burning from the embarrassment of his outburst.  
  
“Not really. I let myself turn into a beast.” Link finishes the last of his potion and scowls, perhaps at the taste more so than the question. “I thought, if I could get away from all this… then maybe… I could forget about her. I didn’t care what I did, or where I went… or who I kissed. Nothing mattered. Only the road ahead.”

He brings his hands above the countertop and rests his chin onto them, anxiousness nipping at his heels. “And is that the sort of life she would have wanted for you?”  
  
Link flashes an odd smile. 

Shad returns it and sits quietly for a moment. He could spend all day guessing the motives of this mystery paramour and be certain that it would get them both nowhere. “Perhaps I should reframe my question. What of your friends who are still here? I can say, with confidence, that we want to see you safe and supported. No kissing of anyone required!” 

This earns him a laugh.

Suddenly, he blushes. His brow lowers as he considers the following question. “Erm. If I might also ask, while you were both out on the road… you didn’t happen to, uh-”  
  
Link senses his trepidation. He sounds amused. “Is this about Ashei? You can relax. I didn’t feel like getting my teeth smashed in.”  
  
“Was that honestly your only deterrent?”  
  
Link smiles back at him. “What was yours?”  
  
Telma sweeps back into the room balancing two plates of bacon and eggs in her hands. She leaves them upon the counter and then looks to Shad. She seems satisfied enough that Link is still seated at her bar and sends him a nod. He nods back.  
  
Link bites his lip. The smell of breakfast is mouthwatering but he’s determined to finish his train of thought before he wolfs it down. Stove-cooked food was better than waterfowl roasted over a campfire any day. 

“I’m not proud of running. And I can’t make you understand why I left,” he murmurs. “But I never wanted to put anyone through this. It was easier to think you were all mad at me, instead of seeing you disappointed. As for what I want now… I don’t know. I can’t go around making promises.”  
  
He notices the gleam of hunger in Link’s eyes, and adds his share of bacon onto the younger man’s plate. “By good fortune, I hear there’s plenty of work at the castle.”  
  
“Did Zelda put you up to this?”  
  
He laughs. “No, but I ought to warn you that I’ve summoned Ilia here. Some reconnecting might be in order before we go running head-first into any more battles, yes?”

“Wait. You summoned Ilia before you got here? Before you knew I was back in town?” Link balks between mouthfuls of food. _“How?”_  
  
“I have my ways.”  
  
“Damnit, Shad. She’s gonna tear my head off.”  
  
They finish their meals in deferential quiet. As soon as he thinks he might strike up another conversation, he decides to listen and wait, and Link does just the same.

He was most certainly out of his element. However, there was something very human in the starving creature next to him. Talking to him had proven difficult, and even now, it feels as though the walls might cave in around them… but he knows he would do it again. He would do it however many times as needed, until the hurt in those fathomless eyes resembled something closer to his friend. 

He owed it to Link to _try._ And by the heavens, he owed it to Ashei for sending him here!  
  
He promises to bring a copy of his book to their next meeting with a handwritten dedication to accompany the printed version — though he’s swift to assure Link that he’s under no obligation to read it. He wins a smile. Link then offers his hand, as though to stop him from leaving in such a hurry. He takes it and feels himself pulled into a rough embrace, right in the middle of the tavern. He apologises to Link immediately after. It’s not very becoming of him to be so informal with the Hero of Light in public, though he doesn’t seem bothered about it in the slightest. 

Eventually, Shad caves in and sees him away with a proper hug and a goodbye that never quite ends. They have plans together next week.  
  
When the evening falls, he attends his writing desk with a newfound fervour. His candles cast an incandescent glow over the room and there’s frost creeping over windows. Her letter is right where he left it.  


  
_Dear Ashei,_ _  
_ _  
_ _After you asked me not to make a big deal out of things, I have since gone and made a very big deal out of things. But not to worry! Ilia will be here shortly to smooth it over. I don’t suppose the two of you had the good fortune of meeting, however it should please you to know that he’s in good hands._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thank you! Thank you for bringing him back to us! I haven’t the slightest idea how you did it, but you did._ _  
_ _  
_ _And I must apologise for the silence on my end. We both know it’s unintentional, what with the spontaneous nature of your travels, but you deserve to know that I never stopped thinking about you_ ** _r_ ** _safety. And your land sketches have been a most excellent addition to my desk! Yes. Truly amazing. If I could find a way to mail all your favourite parts of Castle Town right back to you, I would do so in a heartbeat — though I don’t imagine croissants holding up very well in the post._ _  
_ _  
_ _Oh, and please do share some more about this coastline. Spare no detail! You might laugh at me for saying so, but I believe you have a way with words and are not quite so bad at this as you seem to believe. Apologies, I am rambling again._  
_  
_ _I look forward to your next letter with the utmost enthusiasm!_

_Irrefutably in your debt,_  
_  
Shad._


	5. Scratching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking around while I press on, and do my best to live up to the amazing new artwork in Chapter 1. :)

It’s the winter solstice. A frigid gale rattles the windows, reminding him of this fact. But he has no plans to go anywhere in it.

He remembers the last time a cold front like this took hold of Castle Town. It had been a deeply unnatural affair. The days were bleary — broken by nothing but bad news, followed by even _more_ bad news. There had still been no word from the castle, and it seemed the townsfolk had begun to wither in its shadow. He thought he might be alright. That he might pull through on his own. If only he could concentrate on his readings and stifle the waves of distraction that longed to steer him away! It hadn’t helped that his nights had been plagued with nightmares, ones he hadn’t remembered having since he was young.

The bar only exemplified his worries. He noticed that Auru had begun to slow, as though the years were finally weighing him down. Rusl could not say when he might see them again. He’d been rather vague on the details of the attack that had ravaged his village. All the while, Telma fussed and fretted over the lost girl who’d stumbled onto their doorstep. But then, by some magic, the shroud that had imprisoned them lifted — taking its nightmares along with it. Not long after that, he waited in that empty tavern for the others to assemble.

Telma had left him a goodbye note on her way to Kakariko. _‘If anything happens to little old me, you need to pull yourselves together. Resist this chaos!’_

He knew what that meant.

Of course, there was one he hadn’t seen in the longest time.

He remembers looking up one night, from an admittedly dry set of readings, to find the barkeep with the most frightening woman he had ever seen. That was not to say she was… unpleasant. In fact, she was magnificent. 

She’d laughed at the audacity of the bokoblins just outside the city walls, who would apparently _not_ be bothering anyone ever again. Telma then patted her on the shoulder and began to reach around the bar. There was a flicker of something new, something startled and gentle behind the thorns of her eyes. But the longer he stared, the further it slipped away from him. He’d gone over, bowed his head and politely introduced himself. She’d thrusted a hand back at him in response. 

“Ashei,” she’d said.

She was in and out of there over the next couple of weeks, taking odd jobs and drawing curious glances from the other patrons. He had not been immune to it, either. She seemed to dislike talking about herself at any great length — though he remembers his surprise when she’d asked him what all of the books were for, and he’d told her, and she _hadn’t_ laughed.

He thinks forward to the night she arrived to answer Telma’s call.  
  
Ashei had stormed into the bar and pulled up a chair at their war table for the first time, muted against her usual nature. He couldn’t help but be distracted by it. She had him chasing her eyes down to the tabletop where they refused to budge. Ordinarily, she could sit through any old conversation about his Sky research, even if she had to clarify a number of details about Hyrulean history… but this was a different sort of quiet. She had quickly grown numb to the conversation around her. He’d also taken note of her silent enthusiasm for her drink, which ran drier than usual. 

Eventually, he buckled.

“Ashei?” he’d said for the third time. “Pray tell, what’s happened? You’ve barely uttered a word all evening!”  
  
Her gaze flitted between him and Auru. He tried reading her mouth but it gave him nothing. Finally, she spoke. 

“The Zoras are frozen.”  
  
“Frozen?” Auru murmured. “Could you explain to us what you saw? Please, tell us everything.”  
  
“There’s not much else to say.” She gave a slackened shrug. “I arrived long after it happened. Queen Rutela had been slain and her people were encased in the ice below. There was no sign of whoever did it. None of the guards here will listen, either. They’re all wrapped up in that shady business with Zelda. Unless _we_ can save them, they’re on their own.”  
  
“Nayru preserve us.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head. “How could such a thing have happened?”  
  
There was a brief pause before Ashei rose from her chair. He watched as some of the fire returned to her eyes and was warmed by the sight of it. 

However, before she could say anything else, they were interrupted by the sight of a young man in the doorway. He remembers the next part with no small amount of shame. He and Auru had taken their turns laughing at and accosting Link — but for Ashei, who only glared at him until he left. Her grief had turned to anger, and he could see it threatening to burst out at any moment. He would’ve pitied anybody who came at the end of it, hero’s costume or no.  
  
“What an outlandish distraction!” he remarked. “Perhaps we needed that after such heavy news, yes?”  
  
She scoffed in his direction, unimpressed. Her eyes then narrowed at him in good humour. “You mean _you_ needed that.”

Oh, what a rare sight! But he had to compose himself quickly. He took the opportunity to speak with her again once Auru had adjourned their meeting and left. The man was muttering about the woeful state of the world on his way out. On that point, he felt just the same. 

“Ashei,” he began shakily. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds here, but… I’ve noticed somewhat of a lasting impact on you from the subject matter of today’s discussions.” 

She stared back at him and he swallowed before continuing. Catching any sort of vulnerability from her felt like draining blood from a stone, but he couldn’t leave things as they were. He had to finish his point. 

“What I _wanted_ to say was… if you should ever feel overwhelmed by the darkness of our circumstances, then I am here to listen. Anytime, yes?”  
  
“You… oh.” She frowned, slightly. “You’re worried about me?”  
  
“W-Well,” he stumbled, “worried is a strong word, and you are rather a strong person! I did not intend to undermine your capabilities, or to call to attention to any weaknesses you may feel you-”  
  
“Shad.”  
  
His words stopped dead in their tracks as her hand came to rest upon his shoulder. It was heavy. And cold. And he didn’t mind it one bit. In fact, it was the only thing keeping him tethered. He saw the cinders of her eyes cutting through the dimness of the tavern, and at once he was entranced, unable and unwilling to move. Her smile encouraged him to breathe once again.  
  
“I’m here too, yeah? There’s a lot going on.” She looked away. “You’re a good person. And even though you can’t fight-” He recoiled a little, inwardly, out of shame. “You don’t let that stop you.”  
  
His fingers trail against the imprint of her hand, right where it held onto his shoulder, before he pries the sheets away and braves the morning air. The memory of her falls away as he descends to the lower floor for breakfast. But his steps bring him closer again. He finds her latest letter over by the door, greeting him like an old friend. He chuckles quietly. He doesn’t mind the thought so much now. 

There’s no shame in the physical distance between them or in how little he could say he _really_ knows of her. Instead, there’s only gratitude that he might live in her thoughts, as she lives in his. She had been rather sparse on words when they’d first met. It never would’ve led him to believe that she would have so much to share with him; that she would be so naturally storied, and gallant, and willing to trade her memories with him in the mail; like slivers of colour in a world of grey. In fact, it was difficult to imagine a time in which they’d never shared this connection.  
  
He opens the envelope, and something cool and light races across the flat of his palm, startling him. He gasps and holds it against the light, marvelling at its iridescent sheen. It’s a pearl!

_Hey,_  
  
_You’re lucky I didn’t fill this envelope with sand after you told me to ‘spare no detail.’ Would you prefer this instead? The Zoras have a story of these being the tears of some creature, if you’ve got time for tales like that._  
  
_As for the scenery, it’s different. The travellers I came with want to live here… but I have no such plans. They’ve been building houses on the beach out of these thin trees, which are too flimsy for my liking, but the weather’s nice enough. The Zoras have been showing them how to fish without depleting the resources. It’s good to see this sort of cooperation outside of Hyrule. Smart, too. I haven’t done this much swimming since my training. That was years ago now._  
  
_Glad to hear Link made it back. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if he’d go._

_Shad, I’ve also been thinking about some things…_  
  
_I thought you might explain it to me, but there’s been nothing so far. And I’ll admit I can be a difficult person to know, so you can ignore this question. But I wanted to ask… what made you want to start writing to me? And aren’t you sick of all the junk I send yet? Don’t know what’s gotten into me, really. Maybe this beats tossing it away. Or we could forget all of that and just keep writing._

_Your call._

Oh.  
  
Oh, no.  
  
Oh Din, Farore, Nayru and the Goddess Hylia herself! _  
_

He blushes and almost crumples the page from the tension in his hands. He wants to read that last paragraph again, wanting to answer her enquiry, but not wanting to misconstrue the meaning behind it. He tries to look but the words carry the blinding force of the sun. Might she know? Surely she knows. There isn’t a chance that he’s covered his tracks from someone so perceptive.  
  
But how should he reply to such a shameful question? Should he downplay the foolish extent of the truth, the fact that he is utterly, hopelessly, smitten with her? At least until he’s in a better position to explain himself, face to face. He flinches at the prospect. But she was a colleague! No, a friend! Forged through the battlefield! And by the gods, she demanded some sort of respect. She deserved better than some half-baked dreams and promises on a mere sheet of paper. 

Even so, he cannot leave her waiting. Not like this. 

His eyes rest upon the offer to continue their communications as normal. It was a brutal alternative. He stops and wonders at the state of her heart — her willingness to divorce their relationship from the very notion of feelings, if it would be easier on the both of them — and pulls up a seat. He strikes a light into the fireplace before he sits down, watching as the blue flames stretch into orange, and then white. His breath no longer chatters away. Eventually, against the weather, the room is filled with warmth and light. 

He breathes deeply before daring to aim his quill at the page. It seems an impossible task to put his feelings into something tangible… but it gets easier with every sentence. The memories come rushing back, pouring out in ways that take even him by surprise. By the time he’s done, he’s positively glowing. He tells himself that the apartment must be getting too stuffy from the fire. Though, he knows that’s a lie.

_Dear Ashei,  
_

_I admit, it was careless of me to leave you waiting without an explanation for so long. I must also admit that I found myself wanting to write to you for purely selfish reasons…_

_Ashei, you have shifted the heaven and earth around me. Your support, along with that of Link and the Resistance, have seen my research come to fruition. To be perfectly honest, I never expected the mystery of the Skies to be solved in my lifetime. I cannot help but feel like your presence signalled the way for this to happen. In fact, I am confident that this is the case._ _  
_ _  
_ _I was certainly not ready to say goodbye on the morning you left. But come what may, our stories will forever be tied together. We fought in arms to save this city. And the spirit of you lingers in Castle Town, even now! There are times when I catch you in the corner of my eye at Telma’s. Does that sound strange? I suppose it might, but I don’t feel down about it in the slightest._ _  
_ _  
_ _You say you are difficult to know, and yet I’ve never known a more rewarding venture. Perhaps there is a past, a pain you keep hidden within you, but I refuse to let such things define my perception of others. What truly matters is our conduct. And I can say with confidence that you are an exquisite person, a warrior who stands proudly against corruption. You point your sword at the evil and the untruths of this realm, as daunting it might seem, while I merely attempt to piece its history together._ _  
_ _  
_ _I suppose you’ll want a succinct version of what I am trying to convey._ _  
_ _  
_ _The truth is, Ashei, I wish to envision some sort of future with you in it. There is too much on that point to put into a letter, so I will leave it to you to consider if you ever wish to discuss it. And I would cherish the opportunity to continue writing. Your letters and souvenirs are the lifeblood of this lonely apartment, and I wish to know more of this Zoran creature whose tears made this gift._ _  
_ _  
_ _Have I ever mentioned what a sight you are to behold?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Yours fervently,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Shad._

He covers his mouth as he skims through the page, a second and then _third_ time. Is it enough? And how will she feel, when they inevitably change places again and her hands find their way to the edges? He suspects he might have a heart-attack from the finality of sealing it away, and so he sheathes it into an open envelope and places it onto the desk, conspiring to read it once more tomorrow. He’s come this far, he reminds himself, over the mountain of dead words to his left.

He knows he has to be alright with every possibility before he dares to send such a thing out into the world. The air feels needle-sharp when he imagines the coming season without any more of her words. Or her treasures. Or her sketches. She’d become such an intrinsic part of his routine! And yet, he hadn’t been nearly as upfront with her in return. He prays that his confession might put them on equal footing, that she might learn as much of him as he’s learned of the world through her travels. 

He spends the last few daylight hours preparing his lecture notes, clinging to distraction. After that, he greets the long night with dreams of the world beyond.

There’s a lone wolf running across a barren field. He hears it scratching and panting, its howls raising all of the feathers on his skin. He moves to chase after it, finding wings at his sides, and pushes down upon them, soaring higher and higher into the burning sky. His keen eyes comb the tundra, taking in far too much at once, until they happen upon a single tree on a mountaintop. He flutters down and perches upon it. 

There’s a beast napping below. Something large and white, like the dusting of snow on its coat. His head cranes in some unnatural manner as he tries to get a good look at the creature. It answers his curiosity with two dark eyes and a bluff of air from its ferocious maw. Before he knows whether it means to harm him, it rises and ambles away from the hillside. He hears a blizzard roaring in the distance. Agony builds in the wind, and he knows it will get worse unless he moves. He stretches his wings but finds himself buffeted in the gale. It’s too late to leave now. 

Before winter can take him, he jolts awake and crawls from his bed to shut the window.

* * *

It’s been about a week and a half since he sent the letter away. 

Her reply isn’t due for some days, and despite his best efforts to push the matter aside, it consumes every working hour of his day. His apartment is no ally in his regard. Unwittingly, he’s kept reminders of her all throughout it. He decides to gather them up one afternoon — every letter, every pinned sketch, every token from the wild — and house them all in his room upstairs, cordoning them off so that he might regain his sanity. He might think of her once in the mornings and then once more at dusk as he settles down to sleep. He just might. If he tries.

The following morning, he’s on his way back to the college, lugging a hefty jacket over his waistcoat to protect him from the chill. The last thing he expects to happen is a set of arms crashing into him from behind. He shouts, and stumbles, and nearly drops the books he’s stashed under one of his arms all over the pavement.  
  
“A-Agh!”  
  
“Oh gosh! Shad! I’m so sorry.”  
  
The defiance in his eye quickly burns away. Great Din! He hadn’t expected to see her! Indeed, it is a pleasant surprise. Her own thicket-green eyes blink back at him, shocked at the extent of her own enthusiasm. She’s so slight that his immediate instinct is to shield her from the wind. 

“Ilia!” He gasps. “You frightened the blazes out of me.”  
  
She offers an apologetic bow.  
  
“I didn’t mean to push you over,” she admits, her small mouth twisting into a frown. “It’s just that I’ve been hanging around Telma’s place and haven’t seen you until now. You walk so fast! I had to catch up, though. Because I wanted to say thanks.”  
  
“Thanks?” he asks, dipping his head. “Oh good heavens, you mean that whole business with, erm…” He throws a nervous glance around the streetscape, not wanting to incriminate himself any further.  
  
“With _Link,”_ she clarifies. “Yes. We can’t keep walking on eggshells around him, you know? It’s best to be upfront.”  
  
“I understand.” 

He chuckles and pulls himself over to a nearby bench. Ilia doesn’t miss a step as she follows, dodging the incoming stream of pedestrians. He lowers his voice before continuing. “Please, won’t you tell me how the old boy’s doing? I must admit, he seemed to be in better sorts after our last meeting.” 

“It’s… complicated.” Her eyes narrow briefly. They then shoot wide again, somewhere in the middle of her next train of thought. “He won’t be coming back to Ordon for a while. And that’s fine. Rusl’s visiting soon, so he’ll get to catch up with him then. Oh, and meet his new daughter! She’s just the sweetest thing. I can’t wait for Link to finally see her.”  
  
He can’t help but find her smile infectious.  
  
“Will he remain in town, then?”  
  
“That’s right. I think he needs the change of scenery while we help him settle back in. He won’t tell either of us where he went yet, or what he did. I know he’s worried about what we’ll think.” She exhales sharply out of her nose.  
  
“By ‘us,’ you mean-”  
  
“Princess Zelda. She seems to know more about his situation than anyone else. She won’t come right out and say it either. Though, she said she’d answer my questions if I needed it.”  
  
He feels his brow furrowing as he listens on.  
  
“For the longest time, I wanted to know why,” she admits, meeting his gaze. “But now… it feels like none of that stuff matters. I don’t need him or Zelda explaining themselves to me. I just needed my friend back.”

“And just like that, you and Link have continued on as normal?”  
  
“More or less. Once my voice came back from all the shouting.” She shrugs and turns her attention down to the sidewalk, following the gaudy heels of the townspeople. “Things will never be completely the same. Not since that day we both left our village… but all that matters is I’m there. And, you know… maybe one day, we’ll be able to look back on things. We’ll remember the good parts. And we’ll be glad for it all.”  
  
He stands there, lips parted, slow to react. Eventually, he realises that he’s being terribly rude by staring at her. Ilia closes her eyes and giggles in response. It was hard to imagine a girl like this surviving the ordeal of living with a pack of monsters for weeks. And yet now, it all made perfect sense to him. Goddesses, she was strong. 

There’s no warning when his own memory of the war comes clawing back. 

He feels a flicker of something cold and cruel, like a knife blade thrust into his ribs. He's no longer on the footpath. Instead, he watches as Ashei stares down at the war table, lost in thought, while he and Auru exchange words around her. He wants to reach out, fighting every instinct not to touch her, before he’s pulled back into the city street with a hug. His shoulders slacken as he blinks his way forward. Her arms slip away.  
  
“Have a good day, Shad.” Ilia smiles at him as she turns to leave.  
  
“I-Ilia, wait!” he protests. “I cannot take the credit for finding him.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“It belongs to a dear friend of mine.” He shuffles nervously on the spot. “Perhaps you’ve heard her name? It’s… Ashei.”  
  
“The pretty knight lady Telma talks about?” She watches him closely, delighting in the moment his face changes colour. “I’ll have to thank her when I see her.”

* * *

A month limps by since he’s sent the letter. 

Life seems normal for the most part… until he remembers that he has undoubtedly ruined their friendship, and feels the guilt of it constricting his lungs. His foolish words come back to haunt him at the very worst of times — as he’s collecting bread from the market, between impertinent questions at the college, and when he closes his eyes sometime after midnight. Certainly, she needed time to think things over. Especially when he had only _ever_ concealed his attraction to her. However, knowing this made it seem all the more like a lapse of judgment.  
  
Oh, but today might be the day. 

He tries not to gawk, or pace too frequently at the door when the postman arrives each morning. He also does his best to stifle any of his expectations as he rifles through the letters, looking for that single, weathered envelope. It’s business as usual; some great and benevolent city lender extending an offer to mortgage his estate, leaving him to sit back and watch the rupees roll in; another, far more reasonable, letter announcing an increase in taxes for the sake of Hyrule’s restoration. There’s also a discount flier from the Malo Mart.  
  
Still, no word from Ashei.  
  
It doesn’t take long for an argument to brew in his head as he confronts the prospect of another day without her.  
  
He reminds himself of the fact that she had solicited his intentions; that she’d wanted clarification, and he’d given it to her. The outstanding question was whether he ought to have kept it subtle. Though, how many more times could he have deflected and downplayed his feelings? He couldn’t deny how tiring it was. Nor could he feign indifference to the relief of finally putting it out there! He sighs and runs a hand into his hair, a messier than usual tangle of copper.  
  
Even in rejection, this felt like an abnormal state of events.  
  
If she were furious at him for hiding the truth, she might’ve ridden into town and thrown the confession at him. She might’ve used it for target practice and then mailed him the tattered remains. She might’ve smacked him with his own book. This was Ashei! And she was utterly ferocious to behold! Like a perfect storm, brewing on the highest and most unreachable peak. In such a state, there was nothing gentle about her. 

Another voice reminds him, far more softly, that she’d offered him an easy way out. A return to the way things were. He couldn’t deny the vulnerability in her proposal. He’d also known himself to be easily carried away. He’d once been lost in the throes of anger while the Sky Cannon sat just beyond the wall, waiting to be discovered. Surely her silence, though deafening, was not an act of hatred. But he can scarcely imagine what else might be wrong.  
  
Night falls, and he walks briskly through the streets, ignoring a cold so thick it feels almost wet against his clothes. It’s been a short while since he visited Telma. He wonders if he might bump into Link or Ilia at the bar. Instead, he opens it to the sight of the mailman in the corner — who never seemed to change out of his uniform — along with a Goron from the markets and a couple of young travellers. He can never keep track of all the new faces in this town.  
  
He takes a seat at the counter, and Telma reads his face with two raised eyebrows. She turns to pour a fresh round of spirits into a shifter. He downs it all in one ruthless swig.  
  
“A month, huh? After you’ve been writing all this time?” She frowns. “What did you put in that letter, honey? I hope it’s nothing like the goodbye note I left for my _dear_ Renado.” _  
_ _  
_ “Ah. I was just getting to that.” He clears his throat to quell the sting. “Y-You see, she enquired as to why I began writing in the first place.”  
  
Telma perks up, clearly not expecting this answer. “And what did you tell her?”  
  
“The truth, of course.”  
  
“That you’re sweet for the most threatening woman to walk into my bar? Next to yours truly.” She throws a wink at him.  
  
“More or less.” He sighs.  
  
“Hmm, alright.” She pauses a moment, and he can’t help but notice the stiffness in her tone. _“How_ did you tell her?”

He shrugs at first. And then quickly swallows another wave of dizziness. Goddesses, this was embarrassing. “I praised her, Telma. For all of her tireless work! Hyrule was not her country, and she fought for her harder than most! Was that a patronising thing for me to do?”  
  
“Much too cautious for my liking,” she admits. “But a fair judgment. Go on.”  
  
“Next, I confessed to missing her presence around the bar.”  
  
“Oh, honey!” Telma surrenders and lets out a smile that shows off all the dimples in her cheeks. “I can’t blame you for that. She was a rare sort to have around, always sniping away at the soldiers and making me laugh. Ashei was a funny girl, wasn’t she?”  
  
“That she was.”  
  
The memory of her scratches a hollow into his chest, and he offers his glass for a refill. Telma quickly obliges. It’s almost impossible to continue, but he knows he must.

“After that, I might’ve broached the idea, or more accurately, entertained the _possibility_ of us… sharing a future.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I also said that we ought to discuss it in person… if by chance, she shared my views on the matter.”

He notices Telma staring back at him. Her eyes are warm with approval, though her mouth is twisted into a slight frown. Before she can say anything else, he presses on, hurriedly. “Oh, and to end it all, I might’ve signed the letter away with a declaration of her beauty! That’s not so terrible, is it? Does she think of me as some scoundrel now? Be honest with me, Telma. I can certainly take it!” 

He then slumps over the bar and grabs a fistful of his hair. There might be other patrons in the building. And they might all be watching him now. For the moment, he doesn’t particularly care.  
  
“Shad, listen to me.”

Her tone is serious and he looks up immediately. 

“Did you think none of us noticed when you sat next to her at every little meeting? Do you really think that _she_ never noticed?”  
  
“W-Well, I…” A heat begins to nip at his face. “Suppose not.”  
  
“I wouldn’t have encouraged you to chase her up if I didn’t think there was something there! Take it from me, there’s nothing worse than having your time _wasted_ on someone.You’re a handsome boy, and you’re more than proficient where it counts. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and just give her time.”

Time? 

The word conjures a memory, something buried within the chaos of their final week together. They’d taken one last expedition into the heart of the Faron Woods to uncover the Temple of Time. He remembers her standing there, arms folded, shining beneath the filtered sunlight. He shakes himself free from the vision before she can steal him away.  
  
“I must apologise for my behaviour,” he says at last, lowering his head. “But don’t you see? If Ashei planned to meet with me, whether to admonish me or discuss our viability, she would have made it to Castle Town by now. There’s little else to imagine but her contempt of my letter. Or perhaps…” He swallows. “Goddesses Telma, what if she’s in trouble?”  
  
Her laughter takes him by surprise. It rings out into the room, stopping only as she shakes her head. “I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking about!”

“Have I?” he questions haughtily. “She’s a person, like you or I.”

“Shad, honey, I watched that girl punch a kargarok square in the face. Didn’t reach for her bow or sword. Didn’t bat an eyelid. She destroyed it on horseback, using only her fist. And the damned thing nearly combusted on impact! Someone like that isn’t so easily killed.”  
  
He fails to hide his own laugh, in spite of himself.

“As much as I enjoy hearing that evidence, I must disagree. I can’t shake the feeling that something must be terribly wrong. Is she in mortal peril? Or have I blown my chances? Won’t you admit it, Telma? She thinks I’m a liar and a _coward.”_  
  
“You are not either of those things, honey!” she accosts. “And just for that comment, I’m cutting you off.” 

He doesn’t protest as Telma pulls the bottle out of reach and thumps it back onto the shelf with a scowl. 

She stares at the wall for a good minute before she turns herself around again. Her eyes are narrowed, perhaps in sympathy, as she leans over the counter. Her face jewels gleam back at him in the light. “If you’re still feeling worried about her, you should check in with Link tomorrow. I don’t want you getting ideas and charging off alone. Goddess knows, I’d have to launch my own investigation for you!”  
  
“My thanks, Telma. I shall do that.”  
  
There’s a reluctance to close his eyes when his head hits the pillow that night. 

Her sketches are bright in the dark from across the room, calling him to her yellow fields and purple flowers. His eyes wander from a crane in the rice fields, over to the sombre canyon, and then to the white feathers framed upon the desk. He hears the crunch of dry terrain under his feet and follows the path before him. It melts away with every step, like snow into water. A heavy metal hand grasps onto his shoulder and pulls him under the waves.  
_  
_ He’s dreaming again.

He sees a mountain, a monument standing tall against the sky. The wind howls in the place of wolves. The life in the trees has long since left them, along with his wings, which feel much like arms again. He takes the long and winding road to the top. The journey is rough, and the air is scalding, but he can see the summit now, an island of calm floating high above the blizzard. The clouds are so thick, he wonders if he might walk upon them. Silence greets him from above. His footsteps break the stillness as he trudges up the rest of the way, scattering flecks of snow about him in the breeze.  
  
He finally sees her, standing there, alone, cloaked all in white, wearing the head of a ferocious beast. It’s been so long that he can scarcely believe his eyes. She turns to face him, studying him as he approaches. He closes the gap. He settles his hands beneath her jawline. And then, he lifts the helmet from her face.  
  
“You found me,” she says.  
  
It’s been so long since he heard her voice. He can scarcely believe his ears.  
  
“Ashei… let’s go home. To Castle Town.”   
_  
_


	6. Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This is the heavy chapter, so please be forewarned and take heed of the tags as we venture in. Thanks, guys. ♡ 
> 
> **CW:** Death and abuse mention. Traumatic recounts.

_‘Time.’_ _  
_ _  
_ _Her voice sounds softer than usual this morning. Less matter-of-fact, and more observational, the way a discerning fisherman might watch a moving stream._ _  
_ _  
_ _‘They say it heals all wounds,’ she murmurs, turning away from the monument towering high above them in the Faron Woods. ‘I wonder, what would someone like you use it on?’_ _  
_ _  
_ _‘I suppose… I would use it to travel,’ he admits. ‘To see the past, as it was before us. And what of you? Is there some future you envision? Or perhaps a time you wish to alter.’_ _  
_ _  
_ _She looks back to the Temple of Time and says nothing else._ _  
_ _  
_

* * *

“Yours, as promised.”   
  
He slides his book across the table with a weary smile. Link glances down. He finds the little hand-written note tucked within it and flashes one right back.

A servant comes by with a tray of tea soon after and dips his head as he withdraws. One had to ascend an ungodly amount of stairs in order to reach this level of Hyrule Castle. To make up for it, the building was no longer in a marred state of tattered curtains and fallen columns. But this did not mean the damage was invisible. Shad, who possessed a working knowledge of the interior leading to the archives, noticed the scars that ran along the necklines of the Goddesses Farore and Nayru. He supposed some replacement statues had to be in order.  
  
“Thanks Shad,” Link offers, interrupting his thoughts. “I know I missed your launch, but I wanted to give you something special to make up for it.”

He watches as Link unclips something from the back of his shield and props it onto the table. It seems weightless for something so cumbersome.

“Sorry I didn’t do this sooner. I won’t be needing it anymore.”  
  
He chokes harshly on his tea.  
  
“No-” he splutters. “You cannot be _serious.”_  
  
“Why? It belongs with someone who’ll look after it.”  
  
There’s no mistaking the sky runes carved into the upper rim. Or the air motif etched into its prongs. Or the ancient blue steel from which it was forged. It’s only the Dominion Rod. And by the gods, is it brilliant. Even as the light slumbers within it!  
  
“Do you’ve the slightest idea how important this relic is?” He notices the deadpan look in Link’s eyes and gathers himself before he says anything careless. “Of course you do! You were the one who uncovered it! Link, this is the key to all the ancient technology of Hyrule, left to us by the people of the Sky. Only the Messenger of the Heavens has the authority to wield it. You cannot bequeath such a treasure to a… a commoner!”  
  
He forces a smile. “Then I name you the new Messenger. Problem solved. And before you argue with me, I did some reading. I’m _allowed_ to do that.”  
  
“In the event that you can no longer carry out your responsibili- oh.” He lets out a breath, feeling himself growing paler by the second. “Please tell me that you informed the princess of this proposal.”  
  
He shrugs. “She liked the idea. You’re… how’d she put it, the head authority on Hyrule’s ancient history. You know what you’re doing. She even suggested another book.”  
  
He hazards another glance at the Dominion Rod and feels a thrum in the space where his heart should be. It’s a generous offer. And he knows he ought to be glad for it, especially given that it was coming from Link! Yet… all that pours out of him is longing. The instrument before him could pull the strings of the oldest sentinels. It could command them to go to war, to open the gates to Hyrule’s oldest mysteries! He could bend the technology to his will without a second thought. But they were heavy shoes to wear. Link’s rejection of it only seemed to affirm his belief — that the sceptre deserved a clear conscience. One that did not burn with fear.  
  
“Something wrong?” Link asks with just a hint of impatience. “I thought you’d be happy.”  
  
“I-I’m eternally grateful. To you and Princess Zelda,” he amends quickly. “And I thank you both.” He averts his gaze and then lowers his head, shameful in the face of such a gesture. “But cannot accept this responsibility. In fact, I must confess… that there was another reason I came to meet with you today.”  
  
“Oh.” This earns him an odd glance. “What’s on your mind?”  
  
He knows he’s on the brink of being wildly inconsiderate now. _Especially_ given that he was talking to Link. Link, who was honest, and thoughtful, and rather patient for somebody who’d dropped off the face of the earth until recently. But a new train of thought jumps into his head like lightning. If anybody in Castle Town could be capable of understanding his position — it was him. If anybody here had ever loved another, wandered through this fog of uncertainty, and then emerged from the other side of it, still breathing — it had to be him!

“You see, I have feelings for someone… almost to the point of lunacy,” he confesses, facing his neutral eye with as much bravery as he can muster. “I’ve done my utmost to keep the issue to myself. However, it’s wrought nothing but nightmares and eaten away at my passions. I cannot rest until I’ve uncovered the truth.”  
  
The hero watches on quietly. He’s sure that he notices the listlessness in his manner and the circles that yawn under his eyes, but he’s far too polite to mention it. He takes a breath and scrunches his hands. 

“Link, I was wondering if you might indulge me on your encounter with Ashei.”  
  
“What?” He blinks and groans suddenly, his composure shattered. “Again? Damn it! I told you before, Shad. Her and I never-”  
  
“This isn’t my foolish jealousy talking!” he insists, rising to his feet. “You see, I’m greatly concerned for her wellbeing. I… have a feeling something might have happened to her on her journey.”  
  
“You think she’s in danger?” Link’s frown deepens, along with the lines in the rest of his face. He wants to laugh at the thought of Ashei ever needing to be rescued, but instead he asks, “Why? She takes care of herself better than anyone.”  
  
Shad sits back down.  
  
“We’ve been writing to each other since the day she left,” he explains. “And not once did she ever miss an opportunity to reply. However, as things currently stand, w-well… she’s been silent in the mail for some time. I find myself wanting to learn why. Whether some ill fate has struck her or if this was indeed my doing. There’s a chance I might’ve said or done something to _hurt her-”_ He stops to take a breath. “So, please. If there’s anything you might know of Ashei’s situation, it would assist me greatly for the journey ahead. What was she planning, old boy? Were there any clues at all from your conversation?”  
  
“Wait. You’re planning to look for her alone?”  
  
There’s a lengthy pause. Link’s eyes flit down to the table and then drift to the wall behind him, before they search his own. Shad lets himself be read. He feels the fire burning behind that azure gaze. It’s powerful… though uncertain. 

“I can’t tell you what we talked about,” Link decides. “But I can help you find her.”  
  
“Y-You’ll what?” he balks. “Great heavens, no! You’ve only just returned! It will not do to have you following me around on a wild goose chase.”  
  
“Why?” Link regards him sternly. “She’s somewhere out there, isn’t she? It’d be faster and safer if we worked together. And it shouldn’t be too hard if we start from the last address.”

The thought of charging out into the wild on Epona fills him with dread and excitement in equal measure. However, now, he cannot imagine doing anything else! It’s a far better alternative to sitting, and waiting, and scratching around in this damned city. What if Ashei _had_ bitten off more than she could chew? What if she was lying somewhere, listless, within a field, or at the bottom of the ocean? How many years would pass until he uncovered the truth? He shudders. Of course, the far more preferable explanation was that she hated him.  
  
He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.  
  
“Why take this burden on?” he asks, looking down. “After everything you’ve been through, old boy, why would you add my despair to the list?”  
  
“Because she’s still in this realm.”

He doesn’t expect it at all when Link reaches for his hand. He gasps and accepts it gladly, catching a rare glimpse of his old friend. His fear begins to dissipate like blood washed out into a stream.

“And she’s worth fighting for, isn’t she?”  
  
Yes. He nods. He would leap blindly into the dark, if only to know that she was alive enough to despite him. He’s almost entirely forgotten about the Dominion Rod sitting on the table between them, along with his written accolades and cooled tea. There’s no promise that the end of the road will be the destination he imagined… but he feels ready to walk upon it. He stops and wonders how he might ever repay the hero for his ongoing support. It seems an insurmountable task.  
  
“I am sorry,” he murmurs, “that we couldn’t do the same for you. Perhaps, if you were to let me research your problem?”  
  
“It’s alright.” Link meets his eyes. His smile comes far more easily this time, like the boy from Ordon who attracted street cats everywhere he went. “I’m learning to live with it. There’s times when I hear her voice and forget she’s not there anymore… but it gets softer everyday. Kinder, too. I think she wants me to be happy. So I’m gonna try to remember her instead of the war. Until that last sunset… I’ll take the good parts. I’ll cherish her. Always.”  
  
Shad is speechless. If this is indeed like looking into a mirror, he knows he has a lot to live up to.  
  
“Give me a day to sort things out with Zelda,” he then promises. “I’ll meet you at the western gate the morning after. Be ready, Shad.”  
  


* * *

It’s today.  
  
Shad gazes over his apartment one last time, sighing before he pulls the door shut. He hasn’t the faintest idea when he’ll be back. _If_ he’ll be back. No monster would dare scratch him under Link’s watch, although part of him can’t help questioning that now, given Ashei’s sudden disappearance. He shoves the thought away as he locks the door, taking care not to drop his keys this time. He refuses to look behind after he moves away from the threshold. Link had advised him to pack lightly, and so he’d done his best to cram clothes, tools and rations all into a single knapsack — all of which weighed heavily against his arm.  
  
He realises, in a haze, that winter is nearly over. The air tastes bitter but the sun is warm enough, permitting him to wear his usual purple coat. He notices the traffic picking up, as people begin to shake free from their hibernation and gather again in the light. It’s strange to think that this meandering streetscape might’ve been a dream all but a year ago. That they’d come a hair's breadth away from calamity. Yet, now, Castle Town seemed pleased enough to carry on without him, as though nothing had ever happened.  
  
Just as it did when Link left. Just as it did when _she_ left. _  
_ _  
_ He wishes he could just keep walking — that he could press on, without looking back — but he can’t.  
  
He takes the road from the western suburbs all the way down to the southern markets. The crowd is livelier than usual but he weaves his way through, apologising as he passes, before he dashes into that same old alley between the flower and fruit stalls. He follows the staircase down and then knocks twice, loudly. After a momentary pause, he lets himself into the bar. The closed sign sits untouched against the door. Link might have to wait a few minutes, but he’s alright with apologising for this later.  
  
He wanders inside, panting from exhaustion.  
  
“Telma, forgive the intrusion but I’ve some news-”  
  
He pauses again. He isn’t alone in the tavern.  
  
He hears the fire crackling and quickly notices the figure sitting by it. Alarm fuels him. There’s a small head staring at the flames and a set of steel knuckles clutching the arm of a reading chair, glinting gold in the firelight. Before he can ask himself whether this is really happening, his feet shuffle backwards and his body thumps against the door. He feels his pulse racing now. He wants to steady it but any notion of control soon scatters away like a flock of birds into the horizon.

She turns her head.  
  
He stares back at her, speechless.

“Is that you, Shad?” There’s a formality in Telma’s voice as she calls to him from the kitchen, one that he isn’t used to hearing. “I was hoping you’d drop by! We’ve got a visitor. One fresh from the mountains, aren’t you honey?” 

He suspects it might all be a dream until the shadows in her face fail to wake him. 

Her skin is colourless and her eyes have been robbed of their sharpness. Has she lost weight? Great Din, he can see it everywhere. It has to be a ghost, he tells himself, some pale imitation of Ashei. The _real_ Ashei breathed fire into the room from simply entering it. The real Ashei was blinding to look at, not for her fragile condition. But what was this blow, if not reality? What else could describe the crumbling of the floor beneath him? 

There’s a spark of warmth in her eyes as she looks at him. It quickly extinguishes when she looks to the ground instead. 

“Hey,” she says.  
  
That voice. Goddesses be damned, this is no dream. He hates himself for his reaction, but there’s too much to contend with to even piece together a single thought. His hands reach for the door.  
  
“Might you excuse me for _one_ moment?” 

He isn’t asking for permission, so much as he is praying for her to stay. Before she even has the chance to refuse him, and before Telma can come out of the kitchen to murder him on the spot for his brazenly poor manners, he runs. His travel bag thuds onto the floor behind him.  
  
He just about crashes into everything that moves and _doesn’t_ move on the path; townspeople, cuccos, stalls, though he quickly dodges the strange girl from down the road adorned in butterfly wings and beetle brooches. He shouts an apology over his shoulder and she giggles. By the time he reaches the gate, his brow is dripping with sweat and his lungs are bursting with fatigue. He sees Epona on the road and stumbles the rest of the way towards her. 

He shouts again to gain his attention.  
  
“Link!”  
  
Link jolts and turns around in the saddle, still gripping the mare’s reins in both hands. He can’t help noticing that his surprise really does make him look younger. Almost like the day he first stumbled into Telma’s. He catches his breath after a short while, staving off a different kind of dizziness to the one he felt in the tavern.  
  
“M-My most… sincere apologies… but it appears we shan’t be leaving after all,” he manages.

Link blinks at him once, incredulous. “Why not?”  
  
“She’s _here.”  
  
_

* * *

As far as new first impressions go, he knows he’s missed the lake and blasted himself right into the hard, unforgiving earth.  
  
His teeth clench as he knocks again, bracing himself for Telma’s fury when he lets himself in. Thankfully, she’s nowhere to be seen. Louise fills the job and yowls at him from a nearby bench, her white tail lashing about in the air behind her. He winces at the resentful creature and gathers his bag — hoping its size doesn’t raise any questions — before he paces over to the fireplace. She doesn’t move when he approaches. Not even to look at him. He’s almost too afraid to witness the moment it happens, fearing the glare of a winged serpent, instead of the eyes of an old friend.  
  
Ah. 

And just like that, it felt strange to use that word again.  
  
The last thing he expects to feel is a sense of relief when Ashei finally _does_ glare at him. He has to smother the little sound that forms in his throat, some mixture between a whimper and chuckle. So… _this_ is how it felt to be on the receiving end. He’d always wondered when it might happen. If it might happen. He’d been rather lucky to avoid being bitten up until this point. He realises he’s staring again.  
  
“I-I do apologise.”  
  
“Wow. If I’d known I looked that bad, I would’ve stayed home,” she scoffs, conveying more of her old self with every word. “Are you here now or what?”  
  
He grabs the frame of the opposite chair and lowers himself into it, refusing to break eye contact. “Of course! I only had… something important to do. And so, here I am. Unequivocally present.”  
  
Her frown marks him with a sting.  
  
“Please, Ashei. It has been far too long. How are you?”  
  
“Could be better.” Her eyes harden. “You?”  
  
“Ah, haha.” Goddesses, what a question. “All things considered, I am now doing quite well. Telma says you’ve just arrived from… the mountains?”  
  
She nods. “The village I grew up.”  
  
“Oh.” He pauses. “Oh, indeed. I suppose that’s a fair ride away, yes?”  
  
“Sure is.”  
  
He notices a hot breakfast plate on the nearest table, barely touched but for a couple of strips of meat. Ashei looks to him and nods towards it. He gives a tremulous chuckle and shakes his head. Gods, this was uncomfortable.  
  
“Don’t let me stop you. I imagine you must be starving.”  
  
“I’m not hungry,” she says with mild annoyance. “I told Telma to stop but she wouldn’t listen. Don’t waste it, yeah? And is there some reason you’re acting strange? Can’t be in the room with me, can’t be bothered to look at me… I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”  
  
“You think _I’m_ being strange?”  
  
“You are.”  
  
And there it was. He rises from his chair, wielding a grief he had no idea existed. The fog was lifting and weeks of torment were brewing into a storm. The cat must’ve felt it, for she immediately jumped away from the bench.  
  
He snaps, “Ashei, I thought something had HAPPENED to you! Yes, YOU! As foolish as that sounds! We’d begun to fear for Link before he came back to us… but you? You were apparently untouchable. They thought it was daft of me to worry! The only other alternative was that you… w-well-”  
  
He expects to meet resistance, to see the fury in her eyes match his own. Instead, there’s only hesitation. And a glimpse of red from the firelight.  
  
“You were worried about me?” she questions. “Again?”  
  
“Yes!” he shouts. “I hadn’t heard from you in a month! And for whatever ridiculous standard I held you to in my letters, I knew something had to be wrong. I have spent the better part of my winter deeply regretting the belief that nothing could ever shake you. I hated myself for being naive, and weak, and for calling you _indestructible!_ As though I were tempting the Goddesses to bring about a most terrible fate-”  
  
“And you remember writing that, huh?”  
  
He stops.  
  
“I do.”  
  
A fraction of a smile dawns upon her face. 

His anger falters. Was she… pleased? Had losing his temper in front of Ashei like this been a _good_ thing? He slinks back down into his seat with a sigh, heart hammering in the pit of his throat. He knows it’s not the first time he’s made a very big deal out of things. Before he can embarrass himself any further, he grabs the neglected plate at her side and begins cutting the food into bite-sized portions. 

She watches him quietly.  
  
“Excuse my table manners,” he amends, clearing his throat. “Half and half, yes? We can knock this meal down together. I’ll fetch you another fork.”  
  
“Shad.”  
  
He pauses to look up at her again.  
  
“Sorry I hurt you,” she says softly. “I wasn’t thinking when I took off. Didn’t know you’d assume the worst, though. I thought… I hoped that things could be normal if I returned. But I know there’s work to do. I have to earn my place.”  
  
“I won’t have you lift a finger,” he argues. “You’ve done more than enough for Hyrule.”  
  
He soon experiences the most awkward breakfast of his life. Neither of them are willing to look at the other for longer than a second, and the only sounds he can hear are clinking and chewing. He forces himself to finish the rest after she fails to eat more than another few slivers of meat. When he gets up to find her some water, he catches her observing his movements from across the room. He blushes. 

The memory of their last piece of correspondence comes crawling back to spite him, and he immediately looks down at the table. As usual, she was right. He _was_ acting strange. But he decides it must not matter much at this point. She hadn’t thrown her glass over him and stormed away, that had to count for something. He also knows this might be his one chance to hear some answers to the questions he could not ask. Eventually, he dares to.  
  
“What brings you to Castle Town?”  
  
Her posture stiffens. “I told you about my father, yeah? The knight?”  
  
He thinks back. Yes, he remembers. He even carried a loose image of the man — a taller, rough and tumble sort of person with raven hair and broad shoulders, and perhaps a broken nose or a scarred eye. He can only wonder at the type of person who might raise such a woman. For whatever she lacked in manners, she was strong, unwavering and fiercely dedicated, even if her reasons for doing so were mired in mystery. 

“The one who got kicked out for fighting that stupid captain?” she asks again to jog his memory.  
  
“Yes, I believe so.”  
  
“… He died a little while ago. I only found out recently.”  
  
“Oh my.” His heart falls and there’s a sudden ringing in his ears. All this time, he’d assumed the silence was about him! He lowers his eyes and bows his head, drowning in the heaviness that now permeated the room. Nothing could shame him more. “Goddesses, I… don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. You have my most sincere condolences.”  
  
“I hated it,” she cuts in. “Living with him. In that village. As for why I’m here?” She shrugs. “It’s the only place I could think of. I don’t feel like punching you or Telma in the face, so take that for what it’s worth.”  
  
He discovers that familiar bite in her expression and frowns. It was a callous response. One he definitely hadn’t anticipated. “What of the rest of your family, may I ask?”  
  
Ashei snorts and shakes her head. “My mother died in a hunting accident when I was young. Never forgot it, though. The old man didn’t want the same thing happening to me, so my lessons got punched into me from that day on. Ad nauseam. What a way to learn, huh?”

He frowns. He isn’t sure if she means this in a literal sense. “Gods, Ashei, if this is painful for you-”  
  
“It’s fine. Give me a minute.” She inhales slowly. There’s no tremor in her voice or tears in her eyes. She’s calm. Devastatingly so. “Sorry. I’ve never spoken about this before. But hey, I should shut up now. I know I’m making you uncomfortable.”  
  
“My comfort wasn’t my concern,” he murmurs. “I said I was here to listen, yes? Anytime. They were not just empty words.”  
  
Her eyes fixate onto his bracelet. For a while, she says nothing.  
  
“It’s just weird to think it’s all over, yeah?” she continues on, after the brief diversion. “He never hit me out of the ring. But we barely spoke then, either. There was just… nothing. No answer. No help on the nights he left me out in the woods to fend for myself. If I failed, that was it. Years of training washed away. Any memory of our old family, gone. By the time I left for the city, I knew that we were done. He knew it too."  
  
Shad shuffles in his seat. He can scarcely picture a more terrible thing than sending a child out into the forest, alone. How betrayed must she have felt? How scared? The injustice of it pulls his hands into fists. She watches silently.  
  
“Forgive me.” He sighs. “I cannot imagine this is easy.”  
  
“It isn’t.” She sighs. “This whole thing brought up a lot of _stuff._ Stupid, pointless stuff. When I saw what happened to the Zoras on that day, I started wondering if my training would be enough. If I’d gone through all that, just to be as useless as one of Zelda’s knights… ugh. It was enough to make me sick. Then after we won the war, all I could think of was how I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without it. People were calling me a hero! I wanted to laugh at them.”  
  
He wants to fight against the notion of her ever being useless, but now is not the time. “Pray tell, how did the news find you?”  
  
“Some kid from my village was in that last pack of travelers. Didn’t recognise him at first, and didn’t think much of it, until he wrote home and the news got back to me. I rode out that night. Ditched them.” She scowls. “Never did say goodbye.”

A second later, she jolts and looks up to find him reaching for her shoulder. The side she keeps lighter, and free from armour. She doesn’t bat him away. He moves carefully, in awe of the _actuality_ of being able to feel her. There’s warmth and muscle beneath the fabric, along with a sharp pulse he can nearly measure with his fingertips. All of it held together by bones somehow smaller than his own. It’s an odd sensation. He tries not to think too much about it, or his hands might begin to shake. 

“If I might ask you one last question,” he broaches. “I cannot pretend to know everything about Link’s situation. Yet, you were the one who convinced him to return. We’re all grateful to you, but… well, how in the blazes did you manage that?”  
  
She nearly laughs. “I don’t know.”  
  
He takes the cue to remove his hand.

“When he said he wanted to escape the commotion because he loved someone, I let him have it.” Her tone is heavy enough to make him tense. “Link _had_ a loving family. He had a whole village of people ready to help him through anything! People who’d go into the woods for their kids! I told him, he had no idea how lucky he was. And that I would’ve killed for something like that.”  
  
Shad frowns back at her, crestfallen. 

She turns a glare that could burn through wood onto the table. “Was I being petty? Yeah, maybe. But it was true.”  
  
“You had _us,”_ he says softly. “All of us.”  
  
“I know,” she mutters after a break. “I felt bad about what I said… cause really, Link and I were the same. I was… a certain way. And I couldn’t let anyone see me be less than that. Not even you, Shad. The Resistance was… I won’t get sappy. But I didn’t wanna wreck everything. Better to leave it as it was and find a new town that needed me.”  
  
He had been so rattled up until this point. Now, he could not be more certain.  
  
“Well then, I suppose I will have to prove you wrong.”

His heart nearly skips a beat when she moves her arm. Her eyes, unyielding in their anger, are watching his hand as she reaches forward. But her movements are quick and careful in their uncertainty. He takes a moment to snap into action. He meets her halfway upon the table and brings his hand to rest gently over the top of her steel fingers. She tenses and then relaxes.

"I don't hold any grudges for what happened,” she continues without flinching. “Without those lessons, I wouldn't have helped anyone. I wouldn't be a soldier. When I think about that… not knowing who I’d be or where I’d be… it sucks. You know that we wouldn’t have met, yeah?”

He blushes. “The odds are slim, though perhaps you might've stumbled in here one evening. A songstress from the mountains! I daresay I would’ve noticed you then.”

She shakes her head and he bites his tongue. Now was not the time to be teasing, even if their hands were touching on the table. They were so warm now that he could almost forget there was a layer of steel between them. He began to wonder how her fingers and the palm of her hand might feel beneath the surface. Would they be rougher than the metal that encased them? Or would they be smoother than expected, and thick with callouses?

"But I wouldn't _know_ you like I do,” she reasons. “Nothing would be the same. It took that whole conflict for us to end up working together. And me moving for us to… talk.” 

“Fate is a tricky beast,” he concedes, rising back into the present.  
  
She doesn’t disagree.  
  
“For everything it grants us, something else seems to slip from our grasp.” He suddenly pauses to consider his words. He was about to be far too candid again, though he can’t help drawing the comparison. Especially not after she’d been so forthcoming about her past. He continues, “I might’ve mentioned to you before that my father has since shuffled off this mortal coil. My mother however, has… not.”  
  
“She’s alive?” Ashei looks up and tilts her head slightly. There’s something genuinely curious in her expression and he can’t help but find it endearing. “You’ve never mentioned her.”  
  
“Indeed.” He smiles, but his eyes are too tired to match it. “You see, my father’s path caused an irreparable strain on my family. She left when I was just a boy. After that I never saw her again.”  
  
She frowns and untangles her hand from his own. He appreciates the mirrored gesture.  
  
“I hear she still lives in Castle Town,” he goes on. “There isn’t a chance she hasn’t heard of my exploits by now, though I suspect it reminds her too much of my father to stoop to any sort of reconnection. Not that I mind, to be perfectly honest. We each have our own lives and I would prefer it as such. I respect her need for privacy… just as I wish to have the freedom to pursue my own goals.”  
  
“Oh.” She pauses. “You never felt like your goals were forced onto you?” she then asks, in a harmless tone.  
  
“At first, I felt I had to justify the loss,” he admits. “That I had to make my dear father’s sacrifices count. However, I would never have made it this far without a genuine interest. And so I began to live and breathe the legend of the Sky beings, as I’m sure you noticed!” He smirks and brings himself to meet her gaze, if only a little self-consciously. “Might I venture that the same could be said for you? You spent all those years training in the arts of war and then marched here on your own two legs — a heroine, outclassing any common knight. You cannot tell me there was no thrill in it.”  
  
“… Maybe.” Ashei smirks back. “I like fighting.”  
  
“So I’ve heard. Especially from those knights.”  
  
_“Psh.”_  
  
She offers her hand again on the table, with less hesitation than before, and he takes it immediately. He’s captivated by the sensation. Just this morning, he felt as though he might be stepping off the ledge and plummeting into a world that would not spare him. A world that would consume him, if given the chance. And here they were now… together. He can’t deny feeling shocked at the state of the day. The ghost of his confession plays in his mind, before he finally asks, “You never did get my letter, did you?”  
  
“Letter?” The hard line of her mouth bends into a frown. “No.”  
  
“Ah.” That figures. Though, his relief is immeasurable. “You must be tired.”  
  
“My flawless complexion give that away?” She rolls her eyes. “By the way, there’s no obligation for you to stick around if you’d rather head home. I’ve blabbed on long enough.”  
  
“This _is_ home. As much as it is yours, too.”  
  
She snorts. “Even though you’ve got some fancy flat a couple of streets away?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing fancy.” He laughs. “However… if you were to ask me where my heart truly lies, it would be right here, in this building. With the people who’ve shaped my destiny.”

This wins him a smile. It’s brief, but it lifts the gloom from her eyes for as long as it lasts. He throws one back.  
  
“If I might suggest something,” Telma interjects from across the room. Shad jumps in his chair before he sees her. “I bet Ashei honey would sleep a lot better in a place that wasn’t so _loud_ at night. My bar isn’t what it used to be. We have travellers and guests popping in all the time, wanting to catch a glimpse of a certain someone. You’ve seen how it is!” 

“Ah. Y-Yes.” He clears his throat. “W-Would you perhaps… prefer an alternative arrangement?”

Ashei scowls and fights the urge to withdraw her hand again. “I’ll be in the way.”  
  
He considers himself lucky that she can’t see Telma shooting that terrifying glare over her shoulder. The one that screams, ‘Don’t you _dare_ mess this up, not after I’ve tried to make it happen.’

“You will not,” he amends. “In fact, I must insist. You’ll have your own space and I have more than enough blankets to go around.” He holds back a cringe. “Ah… I shan’t be in the habit of bothering you, either. There’s plenty of work for me to be getting on with at the college. However, if you’d like some extra room and perhaps some familiar company in the mornings and evenings, then I-”  
  
“Show me.”

He blinks.

“Show me where you live,” Ashei says carefully, as though he might no longer speak the same language. “We’ll go for a walk, yeah?”

He nods.

He doesn’t expect it of her, but he can only glean that the walk is a pretense when she leaves him to gather her bags and Telma wrestles her into a hug goodbye. The sight of Ashei now, in her arms, sends a pang of guilt into his chest. He knows he’s assumed her position as caretaker and has no idea if he’s quite as skilled at the task. Ah. But then he also remembers that it’s not in Telma’s nature to trust blindly. Just how long had she been standing there? He swallows. And in the diversion, he fetches his own overladen bag. 

The sun blinds him when they step outside. It’s hard to see much of anything, but he steals a glance at her. She’s different in the light. Still paler, and thinner than he remembers, but her eyes are framed by those same thick lashes that throw shadows against her cheeks. She catches him gawking, folds her arms and asks, “A songstress from the mountains, huh?”  
  
“Just my fanciful imagination.”  
  
“Well, guess what. I'm a _terrible_ singer.”  
  
“That would make the two of us.” He laughs. “I shall have to remember to keep it down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe that this was originally planned as a one-shot and it’s been almost 50 pages since they’ve spoken face to face? Oh, and where might that letter be now, Shad? ;) Hmmmmm?


	7. Being

The door swings open.  


Ashei spots the Oocca doorstop on their way through, and turns to him and raises an eyebrow. He pushes his glasses along the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smirk. They say nothing.  
  
It’s only been a few hours, but the apartment feels almost unrecognisable through her eyes. The living room greets her with its recently cleared tabletops and over-stuffed bookshelves. The floor is stone cold, as were most of the city apartments on the ground floor, and the walls are airy beige. He’s never seen her walk this slowly before. He also can’t help noticing how much it smells like paper in here, although it isn’t nearly as cluttered as usual. She’s to thank for this. He’d prepared everything for the event that he wouldn’t be coming back.  
  
She seems to be inspecting the walls for something — her dark, astute eyes clamouring along the surface — until she stops upon the lone photograph of his father next to the fireplace. He has the same pointed features and the same unruly, russet hair. Her eyes flash with recognition, and he laughs once. He can scarcely guess what might be going through her head, but the picture amuses her in some private manner.  
  
She doesn’t protest when he offers to take her bag.  
  
He goes to close the door behind them, blushing slightly, his arms screaming from the strain of two travel bags, when he notices something on the ground. The usual pile of letters sits there untouched. He guesses one of them is the city water tariff… it was about that time in the month. Another, far more familiar envelope appears to be a newsletter from the college. But then, he wonders what that might be beneath them. He hums. This one looks only vaguely familiar, if slightly yellowed. He bends down to scoop them up. His back does not appreciate this at all.  
  
Great Din, what did she _keep_ in there? It seemed far more suited to a horse.  
  
He frowns and passes over the more uninteresting letters, which would’ve no doubt inundated him upon his return from the wild, and then shuffles to the one in the back. There’s a shattering of bells in his ears, as though someone cut all the ropes in the clock tower and sent them tumbling to the ground.  
  
No.  
  
No, no, no! _  
  
_What the blazes is this?  
  
His own letter? His _confessional_ letter! Gods, the seal was broken and everything! A different one lay over the top, crudely poured, his dried flowers now saturated with white wax.  
  
His eyes dart up at once, his heart and mind clouding over in tandem as they devise all of the very worst assumptions behind this development. Did Ashei have knowledge of this? He frowns. She couldn’t. But… she was a difficult person to read, as much as he loved that about her. Goddesses, what a mess!  
  
He’s flooded with relief when he sees that his framed Oocca scrawlings sitting around his desk have caught her attention, for now. He sighs and stuffs the incriminating letter away.  
  
It was clear that she recognised these creatures from his book. Many people were thrown out of their sensibilities the first time they saw that face on the body of a cucco, and sometimes shouted or laughed — not that he would ever understand that reaction. They were rare and intelligent and utterly marvelous! Even so, he can’t help biting his lip. His work was nothing like the sweeping landscapes she had an affinity for. In fact, it had been painful for him. As though every stroke and every line carried the weight of his expectations along with it.  
  
She turns.  
  
He jolts away and immediately busies himself with letting her bags down near the sofa. She remains quiet. She’s too busy investigating the kitchen. The curtains are drawn, and the townspeople cast shadows upon it as they pass. He doesn’t realise it yet, but he’s been holding his breath for some time. Eventually, his eyes come back from the street.  
  
Oh no! She’s watching him. Staring at him, even, as though she’s waiting for something.  
  
“Well, this is it.”  
  
His voice feels faint. He clears his throat. “You’ll have the entire lower floor to yourself. I-I must apologise for the lack of doors! There’s plenty of space, but I’m afraid I’m a little short on rooms. I do, however, have an empty closet nearby if you are looking for a place to, erm, _change-”_

“I like it.” She nods. “It’s open.”  
  
He takes a moment to catch himself and then smiles. “You needn’t worry about dinner, either. I’ll have everything sorted. Morning and night.”  
  
“Didn’t think you were the cooking type.”  
  
“Oh?” he says, feigning offence. “When you live alone, you learn to take care of yourself. I… didn’t mean for that to sound quite as sad as it did.”  
  
She sniffs loudly, amused. “What about on the road? Did you scratch anything up on your research trips?”  
  
“Certainly.” He laughs. “Nothing worth writing about, though.”  
  
“Then you’re doing it wrong.” From anyone else it might’ve sounded rude, but she flashes a smile and he finds himself intrigued. “I’ve found nothing beats fresh ingredients. You can forage your own herbs, mushrooms, eggs… catch your own loach, if you’re skilled enough! But I admit, buying can save you time and energy.” She sighs. “Hah. Listen to me.”  
  
The idea of having so much variety to his day was a strange one, to be sure. And perhaps once, he would’ve thought it uncomfortable. He could’ve scarcely imagined hunting around in the undergrowth for ingredients — saving flowers she might find interesting, or scrawling the face of a monolith, belonging to people no one could remember. But now?

“You must miss it,” he says wistfully. “The adventure of it!”  
  
“A little,” she admits. “But I also miss intelligent company. And having a roof over my head when it rains.”  
  
It’s hard to keep eye contact but he finds himself drowning somewhere between her compliment and the shoreline. Might she have missed him, the way that he missed her? Sorely? Unequivocally? His mind jumps again when he recalls the bundle of letters in his grasp. He fidgets and hides them behind his back, eyes narrowing as he contemplates his escape. It doesn’t take long for her to sense his discomfort.  
  
She shakes her head and says gently, “Go on. Get out of here. I’ve eaten enough of your time today.”

His fingers tighten around the envelope. Guilt twists inside of him, like a knot in the stomach. “Are you certain?”  
  
“I’ll be fine. Listen Shad, before you run off… I don’t need any special treatment, yeah? Being here is enough. So don’t go acting like I’m broken.”  
  
“You’re an indomitable woman. Truly,” he begins, lowering his voice to match her own. “But it’s alright to admit it when things aren’t the same. I suppose it’s very much like fracturing a bone. It might look fine to the untrained eye, but inside it will splinter and hurt. You have to give it time to mend.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, literal in her deflection. “Got any furniture that needs lifting?”  
  
“I can handle that much at least.” He scoffs playfully. But then, his eyes soften. Despite her frail state, it pleased him to know that she was still ready to fire back. “As good as it is to have you around.”  
  
She turns her head away. “I’m nothing special,” she growls.  
  
“Then what does that say about the rest of us, I wonder?” He sees the flicker of indignation in her gaze, and chuckles, embarrassed. “You'll have to forgive me. I still find myself out of sorts around you. You can be rather intimidating and… w-well, difficult to match at times, you know that, right?” 

He suddenly recalls how much easier it had been writing to her. And even that had presented its challenges.  
  
“So, you think I’m frightening after all?” she accuses. Before he can wince, she follows it up with a smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re on my good side, yeah?”  
  
His fear melts away.  
  
“I like knowing that,” he gambles. “I’ll see you at dinner, Ash?”  
  
“See you at dinner.”  
  
He vanishes up the stairs with his travel bag, eager to hear his own thoughts again, when a _thunk_ on the floor causes his heart to race. He listens on. It’s probably just her gauntlets coming off. He lets out a sigh. The sound of it is quickly swallowed by a running basin.  
  
Right!  
  
The water tariff is sitting in his hands. Along with that _other_ thing — that extremely personal and private letter he’d poured his heart into — in which somebody owed him a damn good explanation! He casts a glance over his shoulder on the off-chance she might be there, watching him, silent as a cat, before he opens the door and slips into his room.  
  
The view of his crime was not as prominent from the hallway as he’d feared. She had a worrying eye for detail, and every one of her letters and tokens were sitting right here, emblazoned across the shelves. He’d organised them in such a way that they were readable from his pillow. The sun was close to dipping behind the neighbour’s roof, and in a matter of hours everything would be drenched in gold. He rather enjoyed the look of her sketches in that light. Looking at it now, he has no idea how he imagined any of this to be helpful in forgetting about her. In fact, it had been a spectacular failure.  
  
He takes a letter-opener from the shelf and cleaves past the new seal. A crumpled up note catches his eye before his old letter tumbles out. He unfolds it carefully, eyes flaring, resentful. What was the meaning of this?

  
_Hey bud,  
  
Sorry for the breach of privacy but we figured you’d wanna know that Ashei took off. We tried not to open your letter, in case she came back and cracked our heads open ~~like those skulls that came out on the field at night~~ , but it’s been ages now. We don’t think we’ll see her again.  
  
Also, we thought, maybe you could give this to her in person? Sounds like you might someday. She was always curled up in some corner, holding a bunch of letters with a smile. Maybe don’t bring that up. She throws things if you do. Anyway, good luck and keep dreaming, you mysterious Shad person! We’ve been inspired by your words. ~~  
  
~~Sincerely,  
  
Numar, Armes, Perosa & co.  
_

He frowns at the wall.

He then checks that his original letter is intact before letting both fall into his lap.

Admittedly, he’d had no idea what to expect. It was not the first time some savage had gone through their mail, only this time, by some miracle, they’d had good intentions. The thought of almost missing her this morning soon fills him with dread. But then, he asks, why did it feel so good to be running out of Castle Town? Why had that seemed like the right thing to do?

He sighs and shoves the memory away, turning his mind to the mountain in front of him. Perhaps this traveling band had a point. Perhaps… he _could_ give the confession to her in person. He just might. If he tries. 

* * *

He’s never seen Ashei with her hair out before. **  
**  
It’s startling at first, seeing the streamlined shape of her head secluded behind a veil of glossy black. She looks almost like a new person. And he can’t help but be drawn to it. He stops one morning and turns on his heel, wondering if she might want to be alone, but she barks at him not to go. He makes breakfast — while she sits in the corner and grabs fistfuls of her hair, yanking a small, ornate comb through it all the while. He tries not to laugh when he hears her hissing and tearing her way through the knots. It reminds him much of his own hair, though the pain came from how much time he spent coaxing it. When she’s done, she pulls the hair into two tight bunches and clips her barrette to the crown of her head. Her mother’s, she says. And then she looks much like herself again.  
  
Cooking with her watching is also nerve-wracking, until it becomes his favourite part of the day. He quickly learns the way she prefers her eggs at breakfast. Or how, on occasion, she brings rice from the markets to add to their meals. She’s more inquisitive than he remembers; and inclined to share her own twists on the recipes as odd anecdotes. One of these involves a story about a red fish with a noxious odour. Apparently, it’s the best thing to eat when stricken with a cold.  
  
His curiosity isn’t one-sided, either. She often watches him make — and then promptly wrinkles her nose at — his morning coffee. Eventually, he offers to let her try it. He eyes the cup thoughtfully, intending to make her a fresh one, when she nods, takes it and sips. She sits it back onto the bench with a scowl. He sees the steamy imprint left by her lower lip and blushes.  
  
“It’s weird,” she says. “Why do you like it?” 

“I’m afraid I have little choice in the matter.” He winks. “It’s an addiction.”  
  
Her late rituals are another point of interest. They’ve taken to winding down together, naturally, once he’s quite sure she doesn’t mind him being there. Talking isn’t high on her list of needs in the evening, but he’s more than happy to spend the time simply being together.  
  
She slips out of her armour carefully one night, starting with her shoulder, which crunches as she rolls it backwards. She sees him flinch from his reading chair and smirks, silently, turning away as she continues. He glances up from his book once he’s sure it’s safe to do so. Her plackart is next, hugging tightly around the small of her waist, catching light from the candles on the wall. After many months of keeping his eyes on her face as _best_ he could, he begins to notice how her shoulders jut out from the curve of her back. He sees them ripple beneath the surface of her shirt as the plackart comes free. His heart flutters. By the time she begins removing her gauntlets, he’s staring back down at the page, unable to take in the words.  
  
Goddesses, he would never get used to seeing those metal arms on the floor.  
  
“By the way,” she prompts, airily, “with me here, you don’t have to worry about any wolves running around town. I’ll protect you and your home.”  
  
Her eyes are heavy and she shuts them before he can answer. She then sits on the lounge, cross-legged and begins some sort of breathing exercise. He watches, heart soaking in his flaws, wondering how someone like him might’ve acquired such a bodyguard. His book might as well be a hard surface for him to smack his head against. He sighs and goes back to compiling notes for his next assignment.  
  
He finds himself counting the hours at work until he can come home and see her again — where she’d be waiting, and they’d trade quips, and she would snort at them. Ashei hadn’t laughed much in the Resistance. Of course, everything was terrible then, and Hyrule was on fire. But there are times when the quiet runs longer than usual. His instinct is to remove himself and go upstairs, but the drought stretches on until he comes back down to find her gazing at his drawings or into the deadened fireplace. It isn’t until he places his hand on her shoulder that her manner shifts. She burns bright again. Rekindled. And alive. Her mood is a tumultuous thing and he’s slowly learning the waves.  
  
“I haven’t seen your room,” she says to him one morning, seemingly out of the blue.  
  
He chokes on his drink. Even he’s not blind to the suggestion.  
  
“Didn’t mean anything by it.” She shrugs. “It’s where you go to relax, yeah? I never had much of one back home. Thought maybe yours would be interesting.”  
  
“I might show you,” he bargains. “Erm… nothing terribly interesting in there, though.”  
  
It was a close call. But there was nowhere else to hide his feelings. He’d known grief to be a private thing, a gnarled and terrible thing, that one should never complicate with caresses and selfish proclamations. But then, he wonders, what did it mean to her? How had grief changed her? She continued to live by the sword, ever ready to move on, saving her tears and refusing to cry. And there she was, sitting across from the table, at his home, by his side.  
  
If she hadn’t wanted to be there, then there was nothing to keep her.

* * *

Spring is in full bloom, and his allergies are not at all appreciative.  
  
He wanders down the stairs one morning, walking far too softly for his own good, when he looks up and finds her pulling a shirt over her head. He splutters on the spot, turning himself around, feeling much like a ghost in his own house. Thank Nayru, she was wearing some sort of grey bralette underneath! Though it did nothing to obscure the peek of abs, shadowed beneath the curve of her chest. The feeling that takes him is like lightning; his palms sweating, his body flashing hot and cold at the same time. His mind screams that it’s wrong.  
  
“That you?” she asks, muffled.  
  
“G-Goddesses!” he shouts, facing the wall. “Ashei! I’m only a man.”  
  
“I’m already done.”  
  
He turns back around and clears his throat. He blinks. She stares. She seems awfully nonchalant about the fact that he’s just walked in on her. He then looks away, residually flustered, and spots his book amongst her belongings on the nearby table. They never did get to talk about it. He smiles, thankful for the distraction.  
  
“You missed my letter on the topic, but I wondered if that heavy thing might also suffice as a shield.”  
  
She follows his gaze and smirks. “Looks subpar at deflecting arrows to me.”  
  
“A pity.”  
  
“… Were there any others? Letters, I mean.”  
  
He stops.  
  
“Nothing worth troubling you with,” he deflects.  
  
She says nothing.  
  
They share breakfast, and his thoughts collide over the sound of the stove. Ashei was smarter than that. He had to be careful! But how could he take advantage of someone who’d shown up only a week ago, starved, and grounded from their pain? What kind of example would that set for any future they might hold? No, holding back had been the right choice. The smart choice. No matter how loudly that letter upstairs screamed at him to do otherwise. No matter how badly he wished he could make the gap.  
  
“And what is on the cards today?” he asks, easing into his second topic change for the morning.  
  
“I’m off to the castle,” she says gruffly. “I need to find Link and apologise for the way I spoke to him, back when… you know. We were out there together. I was a hypocrite, yeah?”  
  
“Oh, Ashei.” His face falls. “You musn’t blame yourself-”  
  
“It’s not the first time I’ve done this,” she interrupts, smacking his pity away. “That said, I’m overdue for some training. Maybe we can sort things out that way, if he’s still feeling burned about it.”  
  
He recognises her half-joke and chuckles. Her eyes narrow and she lets out a smile.  
  
“Will you be home for dinner?” he asks when she heads for the door, her sword strapped to her belt.  
  
“I will.” She hesitates. “But hey, I was also thinking… maybe we could drop by Telma’s tonight? We haven’t been since I crashed here. I bet she’s wondering if we’ve killed each other.”  
  
‘I bet she’s wondering if we’ve kissed each other,’ he thinks, the edge of his mind growing bleary again.  
  
“What’s up with you?” She frowns.  
  
“N-Nothing.”  
  
“See you the usual hour then?”  
  
“Yes. Certainly! I’ll be glad to go.” He blinks in rapid succession. Could it be a date? Or at least, the closest thing to a date he could dream of. In any case, it was a positive sign. Ashei picking up the pieces of her old life was a sure indication of healing. He’d gotten the feeling that she hadn’t left the house very much in his absence.  
  
“Good. It’ll be just like old times.”  
  
His heart sinks a little at that comment but he wears a smile. “Well, have a pleasant day. And send my regards to the old boy, won’t you? I daresay he’ll take it easier on you if you do.” 

“Like I need that.” She smirks at him, then strides out the door. **  
**

* * *

It’s twilight in the streets when he makes his way over from the college. They’d been all too happy to take him back when his leave was ‘postponed,’ for reasons no one but Link was privy to. But he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Ashei had obliterated the dailiness of his life. An excitement coursed through his veins when each morning, even half-asleep, he remembered that she was there, and that she was real.  
  
He realises he’d once clung to the ghost of her. Proud, angry, and full of fire. Beyond reach! But now, there’s someone new in his life. Someone whose bluntness gave way to curiosity, who laughed often, then snapped back into her more frightening persona, turning it onto the rest of the world instead of him. She was wild and exhilarating, and the thought of her lifts him higher than the City in the Sky.  
  
He loves her — the whole truth of her — dearly.  
  
He finds Telma in a good mood when he enters the bar. The lights are on but the sign says closed. He soon learns why. Link appears to be sitting at a table, along with Ilia and Rusl. There’s something small and fragile in his arms.  
  
He catches Rusl’s attention, who nods wordlessly from across the room. Ilia waves at him, looking positively radiant. He chokes back his surprise when Link finally looks up. He’s never seen the hero look so young and bewildered, not even when their paths first crossed. Link sees him. The azure blue of his eyes are snagged for a moment, like hair tangled in branches from a sudden gale. He smiles at Shad and then looks down again.  
  
She’s already waiting at the bar.  
  
He can’t help inspecting her for scuffs and injuries, despite Link’s own faultless appearance. There’s not a hair out of place on her either. It’s a lot longer than what it was when they’d worked together — plunging down past her shoulders, shining ebony in the night. Her cheeks are only scarcely flushed. She waits for him to approach, her attention fixed on her drink instead. He knows she knows that he’s there.  
  
“Hey Shad,” she says, echoing her letters.  
  
“Evening.” He holds her gaze when she turns it onto him. “My highly esteemed Ashei.”  
  
“Funny.”  
  
Before he can ask how her day went, she tilts the side of her head toward Link’s table. “He’s doing better,” she mentions under her breath. “Did Link tell you he was training the new set of knights?”  
  
“Oh my! He hadn’t.”  
  
“This is your damned influence.”  
  
He laughs quietly. “I don’t know about that.”  
  
“Don’t sell yourself short.” She gives a coy look. “I’ve been doing better, too.”  
  
He bids Telma a good evening when she appears from the other side of the counter. She returns his greeting, eyes brimming with questions, and tilts her head towards Ashei when she’s sure her attention is on the other table. He shakes his head and makes a swift cutting motion beneath his throat before she sees them. She finds her top-up on the bench and mutters in thanks.  
  
“You wanted a night like old times, yes?” he ventures, wondering what sort of a mood she might be in. “Well, we've almost got it down. All of Telma’s favourites are here! There’s you and I — not to blow in my own sails — and Rusl and Link. Even Ilia has graced us with her presence! All we’re missing is the old-”  
  
He hears the door close before he sees the rugged man at the other end of the bar, shrugging his coat away. Ashei smiles. It’s Auru. He bows to them in greeting before Telma breezes over for her weekly fix of castle gossip.  
  
“Ahem. I spoke too soon.”  
  
“It’s nice, yeah?” Ashei folds her arms. “We have it good in Castle Town. Don’t we?”  
  
‘We?’ His heart skips a little at the inference. “We do.”  
  
She falls quiet. Something in her demeanour changes and her dark eyes begin to comb the floor, sealing her thoughts away like overladen bottles of ink. “Tell me honestly, Shad. Are you happy here?”  
  
“Am I… happy?” he repeats. He’s flabbergasted. “Great Hylia! What sort of question is that? I couldn’t ask for anything else. I dare not.”  
  
She reads him for a moment then relaxes her stance, reaching for her drink.  
  
“Link mentioned something today.” He feels a jolt of electricity down his spine. Not the good kind that came about whenever he admired her muscles; the fearful kind, the kind that had possessed him to lock everything of hers away and never mention it again. “He said he offered you that Dominion Rod you’ve written so much about. And that you turned him down.”  
  
“Ah.” His voice wavers. “Y-Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“He _also_ said that you’d wanted to leave town.”

He throws an incredulous look at the hero’s table. Link doesn’t notice.  
  
“Made me wonder if there was something wrong.”  
  
“No!” He feels the walls getting closer as he fights to contain his reaction. “Not at all. I’m dreadfully sorry if you’ve gotten that impression. It’s been a… complicated time… and I apologise if I haven’t been as attentive as normal. But I could not be happier that you’re here with me, or should I say with _us_ now.”  
  
Ashei sighs. “You sure about that?”  
  
He could not be more serious. “I swear it.”  
  
“I’ve been watching you this past week, you know. You seem bored, like you’re off with the fairies. Your heart’s not in the work like it used to be.”  
  
Oh. Gods, that hurt. It was a blow with blunt force that struck him down to his core, pulling him back to the lonely winter days he could not tell apart. It hurt so much because it was true.  
  
She’s done with her drink for now. She sets it onto the bench and then matches his wounded curiosity with something quiet, and vulnerable, and equally apologetic. Her body is tense but her eyes are insistent. Almost pleading. “Anyway, I invited you here with a proposal in mind. I think you should come away with me.”  
  
“Come… away?”  
  
She lingers, hesitant for a moment, then leans in closer than ever before. He feels the heat emanating from her body and her silent breath against his cheek. She smells faintly of metal, and rolling hills, and something acrid like leather, along with that honeyed soap of his. It’s strangely pleasant. He can no longer tell whether he's awake or dreaming.  
  
“At least for a bit,” she bargains softly into his ear. “I can show you new places. New mysteries to prod with that big brain of yours. I’ll catch you the best things to cook with, and at night we’ll sleep under the stars. You can see it all for yourself.”  
  
His heart is bursting out of his throat now. He swallows thickly.  
  
“Ash,” he says in a flat note.   
  
“What’s stopping you?” She steps back. “You said you felt safest at the back of my sword. Was that a lie?”  
  
“I’m not worried about my safety.”  
  
Her mouth sharpens into a frown as she struggles to read him, withholding her glare. He weighs his next words carefully. “You… may not be up to the journey yet. Y-Your father-”  
  
“That’s the past!” she snaps. He flinches. The tavern is filled with their colleagues and he knows every one of them must’ve heard that. “And yeah, it sucks, but what good was he if I can’t protect the people I care about? If I can’t turn that pain into something useful? I don’t want to sit around anymore. I want to look after you, for a change.”  
  
He’s shamed into silence.  
  
“I’m not weak,” she murmurs, refusing to look away. “I can do this. We can do this.”  
  
“Ashei, I… _want_ to. But.” He swallows again. “I must be blunt. With the way things are between us, I’m not certain I should be accompanying you anywhere. I cannot travel with you under false pretences. I cannot… lie. It wouldn’t be right.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it?”  
  
She’s finally heard enough. Her voice falls flat and the lids of her eyes arch into something cold and distant. “So I’ve finally figured it out. I’m the problem. I’ve offended your sensibilities, yeah?”  
  
“Now, hang on! I hadn’t meant to imply-”  
  
“Save it, Shad,” she snarls, “if you’d wanted it, you would’ve said so.”  
  
The whole room is watching them now. Not even Auru and Telma are gossiping. He doesn’t dare incriminate himself further.  
  
“It’s getting late. I’ll meet you at yours.”  
  
Gods, what was wrong with him! He wants to reach out and stop her leaving, to feel her close again, like they’d been mere moments ago, but he has no idea how to do this without tripping over his words. He sees the wound get deeper as she leers at him from the centre of the room. His hesitation costs him. She scoffs, whirls away and then slams the door behind her.  
  
It’s quiet. Painfully quiet. Eventually, his feet come unstuck from the floorboards and he dashes outside, letting the tavern air fill the void where they once stood.  
  
“Ashei, wait!” he calls.  
  
A dog barks in the distance as he climbs the stairs. He spots the sheen of her armour around the corner. She’s only several paces ahead, her steps heavy, refusing to run.  
  
“Please!”  
  
She turns to face him. The hurt in her expression throws a shard into his chest. Her eyes are scorched, red after weeks of enduring.  
  
“Don’t make this worse!” she threatens. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. It’s _fine._ Just — I need you to go away, yeah?”

She walks off. The pavement stings his palms when he trips after her.  
  
Nayru, he couldn’t blame Ashei for any of this. He was furious at himself! By leaving things for as long as he had, he’d raised walls that had no choice but to come crashing down. But he can’t let her vanish again. He wields a hammer in his mind. And then he picks himself up off the street, his knees covered in grime from the spring rain.  
  
She's marching towards the town square now.  
  
Her thoughts are so loud that she doesn’t hear him as he whips up behind her and grabs her shoulder. It’s a foolish mistake. In less than a second, she latches onto his arm and twists it around in one solid movement, applying pressure to the elbow to foil his escape. He feels the air knocked out of his lungs as he's thrown into the fountain. Everything goes cold. His joint screams beneath the waterline, hot from the force of her palm.  
  
“AGH!”  
  
He rises above, thrashing and spluttering.  
  
She stumbles back, horrified, as instantaneously as the violence done to him. She looks at him, and then to her hands, which had their own mind when she walked alone in the night.  
  
“I told you _not_ to follow me!” she shouts over the sloshing water. The knights seem to recognise her, for they do nothing to intervene. “Damn it, Shad!”  
  
He stands up again, drenched head to toe, his red hair dripping and dark. There’s a crack in his glasses. He takes them off and inspects them with strange vision, having white stars dance behind the backs of his eyelids. She stares at him. The tears in her eyes have since vanished. He catches her gawking, props the glasses back onto his nose, and then against all odds, chuckles.  
  
“I’ve never experienced that side of you before.”  
  
“I thought you were a thief.”  
  
The water rushes loudly around them.   
  
“Did I break your arm?” she mutters, embarrassed.  
  
He stretches it out, bending the elbow until he’s satisfied with the movement. “No.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
She offers her hand. He takes it — not without a hint of caution — and hauls himself over the edge of the fountain. 

A breeze comes and raises the skin on his arms, chilling him to his bones. She frowns. It had been far too warm to bring her coat, which was draped over the edge of his lounge. His apartment also held a vacant fireplace in a room that wasn’t full of all their friends. She clutches her head in defeat. It seems they have little choice.  
  
“Let’s get you h-”  
  
“Ashei, I came to apologise for what I’ve put you through,” he declares, holding his teeth from chattering. His tie is undone and his undershirt feels tight against his body, but he refuses to let it bother him. “I don’t see you as weak. Or incapable. I was careless and… unusually afraid. My passions are not what they once were, and I couldn’t find the words to explain myself to you back there. You’ll find I’m awfully inept without a quill. Even now, looking at you, I…”  
  
He loses his trail of thought somewhere between the shape of her lips, and her cheekbones, which seem redder than usual away from the light. Her hand curls into a fist above her breastbone. She blinks back at him, erratically. 

“What do you mean?” she presses.  
  
“Perhaps now is not the time for prattling.” He smiles. “If even a small part of you is willing to forgive me, I would ask that you follow me to my room. There’s something I need to show you. You may decide then if you’d like to leave.”  
  
“You… don't hate me?”  
  
“I could never.”


	8. Finding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final chapter!
> 
> Before we begin, I’d like to say THANK YOU to everyone. Still very floored by the fact that people other than me read this in 2020. And made their own creations in the spirit of it? My god! You guys are the greatest. If you made it this far, please consider letting me know. :) Your feedback has meant a lot after an intense year. 
> 
> **CW:** Mature themes. Young adult level, use discretion if unsure.

It’s quiet on their way to the apartment.  
  
The silence doesn’t bother him nearly as much as the cold. It fills the space where his thoughts lived until they were wrung out of his mind, leaving him raw. He adopts it willingly. For whatever reason, she does the same. He doesn’t brace for the blow to his chest that may yet come and instead watches her as she wanders the night. Her expression thaws with surprise. The pretty arch of her eyebrows throws it back at him. She seems calmer. His heart thrums.

They shadow each other down their familiar streets, and he remembers the evening before she left. Her lips painted and taut, her heels quicker than such footwear allowed, and the dim heat of her lingering in the air, forever away. But it’s different this time. They were different this time. He shudders against the wind, and she moves in to shield him from it. Her mouth loosens into a frown. She swears at herself for hurting him, and he smiles and says it’s barely a scratch. It feels like the moment between them might stretch on again, until this time he turns and opens the door. 

She puts the lights on. He’s poking around in the fireplace, when she pulls something off the lounge. She approaches slowly like he might be some sort of animal. 

“Here,” she says. 

He sees the snowcoat in her hands and rises to take it from her. It’s heavy. But great Din, is it soft and comforting! It smells of the wild. She holds her hand out for his glasses and sets them onto the table. He wonders if she might offer to help in that clinical manner of hers and begin peeling the layers away until he’s left standing there, shivering and exposed, but she turns herself around. He sighs. 

The cinders are catching on. 

“Where can I grab your clothes?”

“On the line,” he says, sheepishly. 

She lets herself out. 

He strips out of his layers — flinching as he extracts them like sheets of ice clinging to his body — and stands over by the fire. Her coat slips easily over his bare shoulders. The rest of him is whiter than usual until the colour comes creeping back. Eventually, the door to the garden clicks shut, and she wanders back in with a set of nightclothes. They were lighter and looser than his daily getup. And unwittingly, another detail of his life he’d kept to the upper reaches of his home. 

She delivers them to him and turns her head away. He’s kept the essentials on. The fire glimmers in the background, casting him into a silhouette. 

“I won’t look,” she growls. 

He knows better than to say anything. Or to shut himself behind a door. 

There’s a singing relief as he steps into his new legs and his hands slip through the shirt over his back. Her coat hangs over the nearest chair. He eyes it thankfully and gives it one last stroke with his fingertips. She’s standing over by the desk again, her left hand holding her elbow and her right hand at her lips, free from the weight of her gauntlets. He meets her there and fetches his backup glasses from the drawer. 

“Done?” she murmurs.

“Ah, yes.” He hesitates. “Thank you, Ashei.”

A tremor rolls through him suddenly, raising his skin beneath his new layers. 

This was it. His last chance. 

It was no longer a question of whether or not he could have her. He knew, without further resistance, that she deserved to see the truth. He needed to show her! For all she had given him, he wished it could be his turn to shape her world and remap the distant parts of her soul. Those glaciers within her, that echoed his own loneliness, and threw it back to him in figments of strength and beauty. If it was to be his final act of love, then he would rest knowing he’d set them both free. 

“Would you… follow me, please?”

Her eyes search him for a moment. She nods.

They put out the fire. 

He holds a piece of it in the candle going up the stairs, his steps weighted with anticipation. The door handle sits in his hands. He gives one final push, and then the room yawns open before them, dim and silent. He finds comfort in the darkness as he wanders in and dips his flame into the lanterns. Slowly, the whole thing comes to life. She watches as the warmth spreads over the walls, illuminating the space into a private refuge from the world. It’s his own sanctuary. Far away from the city’s demands.  
  
Her gaze flickers around. She discovers a perfectly made bed in the corner, along with shelves cascading with books, the occasional splash of red and purple from preserved wildflowers, and another writing desk at the opposite end of the room. On it, there’s a paperweight in the shape of an owl. And a dried bouquet in the corner showering dead petals all over the table. He catches her looking at it and shakes his head, mildly embarrassed. It’s well past salvageable. A gentle breeze rattles the window behind the blinds. There’s a faint glow around the edges from the street lights. 

She looks at him and smiles. 

“This is it.”

“You said it was _boring,”_ she accosts. “It’s nice, yeah?”

He laughs quietly, watching her curiosity unfold before him like a dream. It doesn’t change his opinion on the room being at least a _little_ bit tragic. 

That’s when she sees it.

There’s a shelf overlooking the space where he sleeps, free from books and reams of paper. He watches her flinch for the first time and she becomes incredibly still. He holds his breath. It’s all there. Every piece of it! Every page and every token, every touch of charcoal, every memory of the places she’d found most beautiful — imparted to him through her tired eyes and restless hands. Though it belonged to him, it felt rather like he’d stolen it all. 

She gasps. 

The Tabantha hills come rushing back, and she feels the crunch of yellow grass beneath her feet, tasting the storm on the horizon. The air the next morning is biting. Blistering. She bends down and saves the last of the violet flowers she sees along the path before winter comes and burns it away. It’s hardy for something that looks so delicate. She frowns and presses it in one of the rare books she carries. It stays with her until she sends it to the person it reminds her most of. 

Some way north, there’s a fathomless gorge in shades of pink and rust beneath the setting sun. There’s not a soul around. She sits in silence and sketches away the light. She wonders what someone like him might think of these strange lands; as she uses his book to escape the next tavern, filled with wicked ears and prying eyes. It feels like something might be wrong when she doesn’t hear from him for a while. But it’s hell in this place. She packs him away and then presses on. 

The verdant steps of the eastern tablelands are unlike anything she’s seen in Hyrule. It’ll take years before they can grow anything like this. At one point, it rains so hard that her only concern is his book. She scowls and hopes the bedroll takes off the damage. Her rations are soaked but it doesn’t matter when there’s game everywhere. When it stops raining, her only thought is to capture the memory of this place, quickly, for his eyes and his alone. She finds a smattering of white feathers in the grass. They look splendid in his picture frame, next to the ducks and herons that contrast in the light. 

Eventually, her eyes float down to the iridescent orb she’d plucked from the sea. It meant something… once. But looking upon it now, it only resembles death. She’d spent the following weeks talking to no one, taking shelter in her home that was not hers. Time was intangible and the idea of him haunted her in lieu of their connection. It was a slow death, the death of every moment that had brought her to him — to this cursed city, where the sunset whispered love and loneliness in kind.

She feels everything starts to move again as she asks, “You kept all these?”  
  
He smiles. “I did. But that’s not the only reason I brought you here. Ashei, there’s something I want you to read.”

She notices something folded up in his hands. He eyes it fondly, lips pressed together, as though he might be second guessing himself. There could be no turning back now. 

“Tell me, do you recall the last letter you sent?”

“Vaguely,” she says, in a tone that suggests otherwise.

He holds the note out for her to take. Her eyes latch onto it, and she obliges, though she doesn’t open it yet.

“You asked why I wanted to write to you, yes?” he confesses, turning his head down. “Well, I wrote this answer the day I received your question. I was quite… nervous about the prospect of you reading it. But then, as fate would have it, I was too late. Life snatched you away, and I hadn’t found the right moment to broach the topic since your return. This answer of mine… it journeyed all the way to the coast and returned to me the morning you arrived.”

“You sent it and got it back?” She blinks, reeling from the barrage of information. 

“Yes.” He lets out a sigh. “I came so close to missing you again. On that same morning, I was on my way out of town. I’d made plans with Link to search for you.”

“Wait. No.”

“It’s the truth.”

She glares. Ordinarily, it would’ve shaken him, but he soaks in the pain and waits for the anger to follow. 

“Are you serious?” Her words drip with hostility. There’s a skittish feeling in his lungs but he swallows it down and digs his heels into the floor. “I spent the whole day with Link, and the whole _week_ with you, and neither of you thought that was important enough to mention?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Am I not worth talking to?” she snarls. “What else are you hiding from me?!”

He wonders if he’s made a mistake before she throws open the letter in the heat of the argument — hearts pulsing, minds racing — damning him in his ways, until it all comes to a screeching halt. Her eyes skim down the page. Her expression is impenetrable. But then it cracks, and they shoot wide. She utterly fails to cover her surprise. In fact, she seems shaken. He’s never seen this face before, not even when they’d armed themselves to the teeth and barged into Hyrule Castle.

He closes his eyes and the words come back to him.

  
_Dear Ashei,_

_I admit, it was careless of me to leave you waiting without an explanation for so long. I must also admit that I found myself wanting to write to you for purely selfish reasons…_

_Ashei, you have shifted the heaven and earth around me. Your support, along with that of Link and the Resistance, have seen my research come to fruition. To be perfectly honest, I never expected the mystery of the Skies to be solved in my lifetime. I cannot help but feel like your presence signalled the way for this to happen. In fact, I am confident that this is the case._

_I was certainly not ready to say goodbye on the morning you left. But come what may, our stories will forever be tied together. We fought in arms to save this city. And the spirit of you lingers in Castle Town, even now! There are times when I catch you in the corner of my eye at Telma’s. Does that sound strange? I suppose it might, but I don’t feel down about it in the slightest._

_You say you are difficult to know, and yet I’ve never known a more rewarding venture. Perhaps there is a past, a pain you keep hidden within you, but I refuse to let such things define my perception of others. What truly matters is our conduct. And I can say with confidence that you are an exquisite person, a warrior who stands proudly against corruption. You point your sword at the evil and the untruths of this realm, as daunting it might seem, while I merely attempt to piece its history together._

_I suppose you’ll want a succinct version of what I am trying to convey._

_The truth is, Ashei, I wish to envision some sort of future with you in it. There is too much on that point to put into a letter, so I will leave it to you to consider if you ever wish to discuss it. And I would cherish the opportunity to continue writing. Your letters and souvenirs are the lifeblood of this lonely apartment, and I wish to know more of this Zoran creature whose tears made this gift._

_Have I ever mentioned what a sight you are to behold?_

_Yours fervently,_

_Shad._

He opens them again to find her staring at him. Her hand sits over her mouth. All enmity, crushed. 

“You see, the truth of the matter is that I love you,” he says, softly at first. “And to hell with my sensibilities. You won me over the second you walked through that door, covered in the remnants of whatever monster wronged you! I spent the rest of our working history dreading the day you would leave. You came to Castle Town so quickly… so suddenly, Ashei. I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Did you?” she echoes, sounding numb to his ears. 

He winces before continuing. “I did want to tell you after the ball, but… I suppose I was too much of a coward then. I still am now, to be perfectly honest. Seeing you with that letter, I-I am utterly filled with dread! But you had to know. You offered me far more than I deserved back there at Telma’s.”

She lowers the letter, holding back her words, ominous as ever. His sight falls away as he looks to the floor, casting shadows against the angles of his face. He wonders how he must seem to her now. 

“And so, it is in your hands. Do with it what you will.”

She turns, and with slow consideration, collects the pearl off the shelf. It’s completely unexpected of her. His heart quickens in his ears. She leaves the letter face-up onto the table. 

“Give me your hand.”

He obeys. 

“You want to hear the story behind this? These… tears that belong to the Zoras?”

He nods. 

He watches on as she sits the pearl into the centre of his palm, and takes his fingers into her own, wrapping them over until it makes a fist. She guides him with a slow exhale. Patient. And tranquil. Her hand comes to rest on top of his, anchoring him before she speaks. Her skin feels hard to the touch. It’s more comforting than he imagined. 

“They say every tear originated from a creature called Jabun,” she begins. “He was the first and last of his kind, a deity of the seas, who travelled alone in the beginning. The world was in a constant state of change. He watched as the beings he came to know as friends altered in shape and form, countless times, growing wings and flying from the sea from which they came. More came. But he outlived them all. Doomed to repeat the same cycle again and again, he cried out to the Goddess Nayru… who took pity on him as one of her creations. In doing so, she promised him everlasting beauty, and turned his tears into shining orbs. His tears scattered away, becoming treasures along the ocean floor. Soon, the people learned of them and began to trade them as tokens that brought lovers together.”

The word floods him with euphoria. There could be nothing stranger than hearing her say it. She notices his reaction and blushes angrily.

“When I heard that dumb story, it made me think of you.”

“Oh?”

She brings his hand, bound within hers, to her lips. He startles as her mouth brushes against the back of it. It was delicate, a whisper of a touch. 

“You were the beauty that followed,” she says crossly. “I thought of all those years I’d never get back. All those years spent fighting and never hoping that things could be different… and yet… there you were. You were constant. And bright. And I never wanted to leave you behind.”

“Ashei, I-I… I do not know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

She guides his hand into casting the pearl aside.

He fumbles on the spot — unable to think or speak. She steps forward. He steps back, apologetic in his gaze. They do this until there’s only the wall behind him. He catches the scent of her, that cardinal bitterness, and every part of him quivers, electrified. She comes in close and stops. Her eyes lowered. Waiting. He closes the gap and crashes against her like a wave. 

Their lips move together and all is lost. She tastes cool and sweet, and utterly intoxicating; like raindrops over closed eyelids, like pinpricks of cold against a frenzied heat. To know that _this_ had been in front of him for the duration of their friendship was almost cruel. His hands begin to tug at the backs of her shoulders, his fingers etching their way into the blades, searching for something to steady himself with. Her pulse spikes beneath the surface. She stifles a noise and shoves him hard against the wall, washing over him completely. Gods, yes.

His jaw parts wider and she does the same, yielding to his movements until there's a flicker of teeth against his lower lip. The sharpness glances away and he chases after it, offering himself up and lingering in the space until she bites down. He groans. His heart is pounding in his ears. He feels it rattling in his throat and clouding his bewildered thoughts. She releases him, brushing over the tender spot marked by her teeth, soothing the edges. He whispers her name between breaths, aching for her to obliterate him.

They couldn’t be friends anymore. Too much had happened, and the parts of him that shied away from that renitent aura and cynical mind were left shattered beyond repair. The only thing that mattered now was that she was his… and that he was completely, unreservedly hers. 

“I'll ask you again,” she growls in his ear. “Come away with me?”

“I am yours,” he promises, flashing hot, feeling her bony shoulder against his neck. “And I shall do everything in my power to ease your grief… if you’ll let me.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I swear,” he breathes. “I won't ever abandon you or leave your side. Unless you were to command it of me.”

“Command you?”

He feels the shape of her mouth form into a smirk against his cheek. She pulls away to evaluate him, and he lets himself be read. Her lashes make beautiful jagged shapes in the gloom. 

“Indeed.” He laughs, shaking from their encounter. “I’m rather like your prisoner now.”

“I’m not interested in that kind of partnership,” she says seriously. “A simple give and take works well for me. You’re a rare sort, yeah? So… what do I have to trade for your company? What do you want from me, Shad?”

He laughs again and shakes his head. Goddesses, she knows exactly what she's doing. She must, for there's no hiding the thickness in the air or the strain in his body when it’s pressed against hers.

“Merely your company in return.”

“You have it.” She nods and pins her hand to his stomach, holding him in place. His heart leaps. “The nature of which?”

“I’m afraid that is yet to be determined,” he says, feeling the world slowing, and his mind slipping, and all manner of poise going out the window. “Gods, are you really going to force it out of me?”

“No.” She leans in again and nips his ear this time. “I only use force as necessary.”

“Good to know.”

He slips his arms around the back of her waist, and they fall towards something soft.

Admittedly, he’s never heard the gods with those ears, but it feels as though they might be calling out to him. The city flashes in his mind — throwing visions of the quiet streets leading to his publisher, cut against the chaos of the bustling stalls. He hears the wine pouring into his glass at Telma’s, which dissipates, then thunders down like the waters of the fountain in the main square. He climbs the stairs of Hyrule Castle, past rows of headless statues, and finds Link, of all people, at the top. The hero smiles and looks to the orange sky.

Suddenly, he’s dancing with Ashei. They’re in that nook of the castle garden, where no one can hear them talk or catch them ignoring the other guests. He guides her carefully, confident in his movements. She follows along in that dress she hates and laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. He hadn’t needed an excuse, she says. He was always putting himself in danger and fretting over a world beyond their reach. He was passionate and kind, and he knew how to make her laugh. He was always welcome. And she knew that his dreams would one day lead him higher than any old mountain.

He comes back to find his arm wrapped around her — her body tight and compact against his own — over the crumpled covers of his bed. They sit beneath her wall of mementos and he wonders what corners of the world they might see next. She suggests that they go through his maps tomorrow. He agrees. Her hand then traces against his leg, slowly, an apparent hunger in her gaze. Her back piece and grieves were scattered to the floor some time ago. 

Oh, he realises. He sits up to calm his heart, feeling hopelessly nervous all over again. She withdraws her hand. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

He blushes. “Ash, I-I’m… afraid I’m still rather in shock-” 

“I _mean_ sleep. You know, that thing you do alone every other night?” She smirks and takes a moment to smack his pillow into shape. He does wonder if she meant that. “Besides, I’ve gotta have something up my sleeve to get you to leave, yeah?”

“You really don’t.” He chuckles. “But please… stay. We’ll fret the details in the morning.”

He gets up to douse the lanterns and finds his way back easily in the dark. His intention is to kiss her again. She watches him from across the room, and he sees the flash of teeth as he climbs into the sheets. As much as she frightened him, it pleased her to know that his passions had overridden it. Well, _most_ of it.

He asks if he might be permitted to touch her face, having forgotten all of his manners before. She scoffs and allows it. As they settle in together, he brushes her hair away from her eyes, enjoying the silken texture. When he brings his lips to her forehead, her eyes stay focused on him. Sleeping isn’t high on the agenda when she can keep him warm, and breathe his lilac scent, and trail her fingers along his collarbone. He would do very nicely on the rough nights on the road.

“I wonder, what might’ve happened if I’d told you how I felt the day you left?” he murmurs, somewhere between the curtain of sleep and reality. The dawn will come in a matter of hours, and any memory of his bent arm and wet clothes might as well be a dream. “Where would we be? Would I… know you as I do?” 

“I don’t know,” she answers. Her pale fingers rest over his lips and her eyes narrow, full of her love for him. “But we’re here now.”

* * *

The morning is bright and busy, and their bags weigh heavily on their shoulders. 

The following week had been no less chaotic. With the doors to his sanctuary thrust open and his secrets up in smoke, Shad spent it planning for the journey ahead. The ghosts of his worry and obsession were washed away in the spring rain — from the evenings they embraced, lips parted, their pain dealt between them in the softest ways — all the way through to the moment he handed in his resignation letter.

She cups his face that night and asks if he really wants it. If he might gaze upon the uncertainty of the world before them with the same fervour he holds for his Sky creatures. He laughs, and with a couple of choice words about his naysayers, imparts another kiss onto her forehead. She holds still, enthralled by the change in him. Yes, he says. Everything screams yes.

He finds them on their way out of the city. 

He’s over by the gate, yellow hair peeking beneath his hood into the sun’s rays. Life happens around him — traders hauling their goods into the city, goats bleating from the stables, children running over the cobbles — and he watches it all, smiling from the shadows.

They pause when they notice him.

Shad searches for that familiar cold, the one that had haunted him at Telma’s on the morning he arrived, but to no avail. He seems lighter than ever before. Poised, much like Zelda herself. And with the silt of war washed out of his scars. Shad studies Ashei’s reaction and finds a quiet stirring in her eyes, though she shows nothing else. She approaches him candidly. 

“Hey,” she says. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Link, old boy.” Her metal hand brushes against his shoulder, calming his nerves. “I didn’t see you there at Telma’s last night. I, uh… meant to tell you that we’re on our way out. I’ve decided to leave Castle Town after all. I cannot say when we’ll be back.”

Link smirks a little. “I had a hunch.”

Shad turns his gaze down to the pavement, eyes weighted with a concern he still carried. He feels powerless as he asks, “Will you be alright?”

Link nods. His mind is somewhere else. 

Ashei doesn’t waste time guessing where that might be. She steps forward, looking to Link and then at Shad, whose forlorn expression melts into curiosity. She tilts her head at the young hero and raises an eyebrow. He smiles and she gives a nod of approval.

“You know, it’s not too late to give the castle life a break,” she offers. “You could travel with us until you’re back up to scratch. We’d keep you out of trouble. And two mercs earn better than one on the road, yeah?”

Link’s eyes widen then suddenly narrow. The feeling spreads through him like the healing warmth of a spring. “Thanks… but I’m staying this time. I’ve made promises.”

He reaches under his shield to pull something out. 

Shad has seen it before but it isn’t any less surprising. He reaches out instinctively as though to touch it. But his hand curls mid-air as he stops. He’s brought the Dominion Rod! And he did it even knowing that his intended Messenger might fly away, beyond the borders of what they knew to be Hyrule.

“Link! Goddesses, I-”

“He’ll take it,” Ashei says sternly, pushing him forward. “And he’s not going to argue.”

“I’m most honoured. Thank you.” 

“Use it on any statues you find.” Link smiles. “And let me know if it works.”

“Is that… an invitation to write?”

He nods. “Tell me everything.”

He can only guess what other questions might wait behind those stark blue eyes. What was it like to find her? To make the gap, as impossible as it seemed, and follow her recklessly into her world? He stifles the urge to cry.

“In the meantime, look after yourself, old boy. I believe we owe you a great debt.”

The morning comes to a standstill as their words run dry, delaying the inevitable. So this is how it feels, he tells himself. The long goodbye… the one that ends with him leaving.

“We’ll be back before you know it, yeah?”

He watches as Link and Ashei go to shake hands, and the hero traps her into a hug she doesn’t shove away. She gives him a heavy slap on the back. Stay strong, she says. And she’ll do the same. He offers to teach her some sword techniques when she returns, and she nods, accepting his affirmation. She gives him one final look and leaves to fetch her horse from the stable. She always left before it got mushy. 

His stomach twists. It’s his turn. 

Link pulls him into a hug, and he crumples against him. It’s too much to ask him to explain his kindness. All that mattered was that he was back. 

Ashei clops over to them and offers her hand to Shad. It’s time. 

They ride out together and he looks to the horizon, smiling behind the curtain of ebony hair that billows into his face. Castle Town slips into the distance. The seconds build into minutes, becoming hours, pulling him further and further away from it all. The grasslands fill his nostrils. The rivers glisten to him from the tops of waterfalls, teeming with life. The call of an owl reaches his ears from the edge of the trees. It’s beyond anything he could’ve written, and he wonders how she’d conveyed the blunt of it so beautifully. 

When twilight comes, they wind down together in a field of purple flowers, in the shadow of a forest. He rubs her shoulders at the campfire after the long ride and quick hunt. She smiles, crunches her neck to the side, and then comes down to rest beneath his arm. He pulls her snowcoat over their legs and shuts his eyes, yearning only for the worlds they might discover tomorrow. He was here. And she was real. 

They say nothing.

* * *

_Dear Link,_ _  
_ _  
_ _We’re now days out from the highlands. We went past some sort of perpetually raining forest in the east, all the way down to a hidden pasture in the arid south. The trees here are thicker than any I’ve seen before. They’re rather alien looking. I’m not sure if I like the look of them, but there’s packs of wild horses roaming the hills, who I can see even now in the distance._

_We’ve spotted a curious number of ruins_ — _some with languages and motifs I remember vaguely from my studies, among others simply burning to be identified. Nothing has responded to the Rod of the Heavens… but I have hope for it yet! Little pieces of a past, far larger than you or I could ever imagine, are buried all over this continent. It is my wish to observe them, and to find whatever links might draw them together or separate them through the ages._

_How are those recruits of yours going? Along with the others — Telma, Ilia, Auru and Rusl? We dare not ask of the Princess, given what happened the last time her name came up in one of our letters. Perhaps that’s a poor joke. I do apologise for it. Speaking of, if that friend of yours with a knack for Hyrulean history would be interested in lending her knowledge to our exploits, we would very much like to correspond with her. We’re only an historian and a budding artist (among other talents) but we will do our utmost to deliver results!_

_You’ll also find Ashei’s latest work enclosed. I hope you won’t mind the inclusion of myself in some of these drawings, I’m rather conscious about taking away from the view. She’s asked me to inform you that we’re far away from any sledding enthusiasts… whatever that means. I don’t believe she’s a fan of this warmer weather._

_In closing, we hope to find you at the next address. Your letters have kept Castle Town alive in our hearts and beckon us to return to it when we can. Stay strong, old boy, as always._

_Our warmest regards,_

_Shad & Ashei. _

**END**


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